Blue Skye Dreams
by Arhuaine
Summary: Set during the Clan invasion of the Inner Sphere, this is the story of one Mechwarrior and her struggle. (Mature themes and some mature language)
1. 17 March 3050

_Headquarters of the 17th Skye Rangers_

_Mariah's Pinnacle, Barcelona_

_Chahar Province, Federated Commonwealth_

_17th March 3050_

Leftenant Margaidh Lewis cursed, and ran her fingers through her sandy-coloured hair.She was lying on the floor in the cockpit of her Battlemech, with her head in a panel. Components of the weapons control system were scattered on the floor around her.Angie, her Tech, popped her head into the hatch, with a broad grin on her face.

"Got one, Margaidh," she said.

Margaidh sat up to look, and banged her head on the overhanging panel. "Och, shit," she swore, in a broad Scottish accent. Rubbing her head, she breathed in hard and wriggled into the space behind the seat to let Angie in. While Margaidh was not overweight, she was tall and well-built, and the _Shadow Hawk's cockpit was a tight fit even with only one occupant._

"It's the laser that does it," Angie said as she squeezed herself into the bottom of the cockpit and started to install the new circuit board she had brought with her. "The _Shadow Hawk control circuits are made for autocannon, not heavy lasers. I'll have to re-wire it."_

"I don't understand it," Margaidh said with a frown. "This Mech's had a Magna Mk. III in place of the autocannon for the past sixty-odd years. My mother never had any trouble with it."

Angie grunted. "If your mother wanted Magna-threes, she should have had a _Rifleman." She struggled with the circuit board for a few minutes, then gave an exclamation of satisfaction, and closed the panel with a bang. "That should do it," she said. "Let's give it a go."_

Margaidh slid into the seat and powered up the weapon systems. A row of amber lights turned green one by one as each weapon in turn came onto standby, and she smiled."A-1, Angie, you've done it again."

The Battlemech, of which Margaidh's blue _Shadow Hawk was a typical example, had been the mainstay of warfare for over six hundred years. The majority were vast bipedal machines, either humanoid or bird-shaped, averaging twelve meters tall and ammassing up to a hundred tons. Looking like vast robots but controlled by a single warrior in a cockpit, they bristled with weapons that were capable of incredible destruction. _

Since the fall of the Star League three hundred years ago, the technology required to build new Battlemechs had been gradually lost in the mists of time. Now it was possible only to repair existing Mechs, and while many parts were still manufactured, others could be obtained only by cannibalising other, more badly damaged Mechs.A good Technician was one who could keep a Mech in good working order with the minimum of resources. 'Spit and baling twine' was a phrase Angie used frequently.

Angie grinned, and started collecting her tools together, while Margaidh turned off the weapon systems and let them cool. "The _Blue Skye is a fine Mech,"the Tech said as she ducked out of the cockpit. "Just look after it. Remember, the less I see of you, the better."_

After Angie had gone, Margaidh headed back to her quarters, to change out of her overalls and into her uniform. She had already missed morning simulator practise; if she didn't show up for her scheduled afternoon patrol, she would be in deep trouble. 

Not that there was any need for afternoon patrol out here on Barcelona, a backwater place on the periphery of the Commonwealth, where nothing ever happened.At least the weather was good, which was a bonus. Margaidh was more accustomed to the dull grey skies of Summer, her home planet. It was home too of the 17th Skye Rangers, the regiment whose badge she wore with pride, as had her mother and grandmother before her.

She had just turned the corner on the way to the junior officer's mess when she heard a stern and familiar voice behind her. "Lewis!" Margaidh stopped mid-stride, and screwed her eyes shut in anticipation. Then with her nicest smile, she turned around.

"Yes, Sir?"

Hauptmann Joe Pritchard stood leaning against the wall, his bare arms folded. "You missed practise this morning."

"I was in the repair bays, Sir," Margaidh said. "Weapons control circuit burnt out."

"I see," said Pritchard, his eyes narrowing. "Did you fill out a repair log?"

"Um… no," said Margaidh, feeling herself blush. "…Sir," she added, as an afterthought.

"Make sure you do," Pritchard said. "I want it on my desk in fifteen minutes. Don't be late for patrol. You're with me this afternoon."

Margaidh groaned inwardly. "Aye, Sir," she said, snapping to salute, and Pritchard nodded dismissal. Just as she turned to go, Pritchard called her back.

"I understand you had a letter from your mother this week," he said, less sternly now.

Margaidh nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Is she well?"

"She's fine, Sir," Margaidh replied. It wasn't entirely true, but as far as she was concerned, her mother's health was none of anyone else's business. "Sir, may I ask you a question?"

Pritchard spread his arms. "Sure," he said, smiling now.

"How well did you know her?"

He rubbed his chin and frowned. "Not especially well, really. Eleanor was a good couple of ranks above me, and it wasn't the done thing for a young officer to get to know his seniors. I remember she was good, and I remember the _Blue Skye; it's good to see it back again." He smiled at Margaidh. "She was a hard woman, as tough as old boots with a tongue like a PPC. She only had to look at you in a certain way, and you knew you were in trouble."_

Margaidh nodded. She was familiar with that stare, but she could not imagine Hauptmann Pritchard getting into trouble. "Were you there? When she had the accident, I mean?"

The senior officer nodded, the smile gone as quickly as it had appeared. He rubbed his temples, as if trying to get rid of a headache. "Yes, Margaidh. I was there.It was the only time I ever saw her look really scared. I think she knew right then that it was going to be bad."

Margaidh nodded slowly.That prediction had been right at least. Every Mechwarrior accepted the possibility of serious injury or even death, as an integral risk of the job. But every Mechwarrior hoped that if it was to happen at all, it would be in the cockpit of a Mech, in the heat of battle. Eleanor Lewis had lived with that risk for all the sixteen years she served with the Rangers. Then her career was cut short by a ten-meter fall from a gantry in a Mech repair bay; a fall that broke her back, and forced her to trade in the _Blue Skye for a wheelchair. _

"She never really came to terms with it," Margaidh said quietly. "Even after all these years. It isn't fair."

"Life never is, Lewis," said Pritchard. "And if it was, you'd be bored." He glanced at his watch. "You have ten minutes to get that repair log on my desk."

"Aye, Sir."

********************

Four hours later, Margaidh was back in the cockpit of the _Blue Skye, marching over the hills some forty kilometres from the garrison base. Ahead of her she could see the back ofPritchard's __Crusader, and to her rear, the lighter and faster __Phoenix Hawk and __Jenner. These last two were visible only on her display, as images picked up by the __Shadow Hawk's magnetic and infra-red sensors._

As she predicted, the patrol had so far been intensely dull.The sun shone warmly down from an azure blue sky, as was typical on Barcelona, and the rolling, sandy hills rippled with a rough, grey-green grass. In the distance the sun silhouetted a needle of orange rock known locally as Mariah's Pinnacle. Nothing moved save the occasional rodent, most of which were the size of small dogs. Margaidh vaguely wondered whether she shoud test out her heavy laser by shooting at one of them, but decided that Hauptmann Pritchard would be unimpressed.She was relieved when at last the order was given to turn round and head for home.

The lance was only ten kilometres from the base when the _Blue Skye's sensors bleeped their warning signal. She glanced anxiously at the display, and saw fifteen black dots moving in. Sergeant Steve McKernon in the __Jenner saw them too, and his voice crackled over Margaidh's headset. "Sir, I've picked something up on the long range sensors," he said. "Fifteen Mechs, I think."_

"Roger that, McKernon," Pritchard replied. "Range… twelve kliks. No, ten."

"Anybody got an ID on them yet?" Margaidh asked, frowning at the display that flickered between _Marauder and __Catapult before finally settling on __Configuration Unknown._

"Negative on that," came back the reply from the other three Mechs.

"Pirates, I expect," said Sergeant Shelly Lee from the _Phoenix Hawk. _

If they're pirates, thought Margaidh to herself, why can't we tell what Mechs they've got? She gritted her teeth and turned the _Blue Skye to face the oncoming Mechs. She heard Pritchard alerting the base, and a shiver ran down her spine. The afternoon patrol looked as though it would be an exciting one, at least._

The patrol lance did not have to wait long for the fifteen incoming Mechs to come into visual range, and by the time they did, Margaidh was horrified to see dozens of other unidentified black dots on her display. But what caught her attention more than anything else were the Mechs they could now see. They were like nothing Margaidh had ever seen before, and not one of them, she calculated, was less than sixty-five tons.

"Hold your position, and move in on my command," Pritchard ordered. "Lee and McKernon, you have the faster Mechs so you'll move round on a wide curve towards those hills. Lewis, engage with your long-range missiles as soon as you can." 

"Aye, Sir." Margaidh watched the range counter carefully. The strange Mechs, an assortment of stocky, bird-like shapes, came towards Margaidh's lance at a run. Then, abruptly, they all stopped, just outside the range of Margaidh's LRMs.

For a while, they stood there, motionless. Then, out of the tense silence, one of them spoke, his voice stern and sharp over Margaidh's communications headset. "I am Star Captain Brigman Hazen of the Trinary Bravo Star, 9th Talon Cluster, Gamma Galaxy. What forces dare defend this world against the steel talons of the Clan Jade Falcon?" 

"Clan Jade Falcon?" Pritchard replied. "That's no pirate outfit I've heard of before."

Brigman Hazen repeated his question, his voice now betraying a trace of irritation. "What forces defend this world?"

"We're the Seventeenth Skye Rangers, the Boys of Summer," replied Pritchard defiantly. "And unless you get the hell off this planet, we'll kick you off ourselves." Hazen did not reply, except to let loose a flight of missiles that struck Pritchard's _Crusader in the left torso, stripping off most of it's armour. "Shit! How did he do that? He's out of range!"_

No-one took the time to try and work it out. Margaidh punched her jump-jets and the _Blue Skye roared upwards, landing neatly in a gentle hollow, concealing her position from most of the Jade Falcon's Mechs. From that position, she could hit with the shoulder-mounted heavy laser as well as the LRMs, and this she did, firing on one of the smaller targets. Five missiles streaked towards one of the strange 'Mechs. Two missed and sent up a cloud of dirt and sand but the others, and the laser,found their target. Armour melted on the Mech's front, but Margaidh's weapons did not penetrate. _

TheMech turned towards Margaidh, raised a _Marauder-like arm, and fired with what she could only guess was some sort of particle-projectile cannon. Azure lightning hit the __Blue Skye full in the chest, stripping off a large portion of it's armour. Another one like that, and it would be through._

Lee and McKernon were also leaping, in Lee's case quite literally, into action. Like Margaidh, however, their weapons seemed to have very little effect, as though these Mechs carried more armour than they should have, even for Mechs of their size. More armour, better weapons; Margaidh's excitement was rapidly changing to fear. A medium lance like theirs stood no chance of taking on fifteen heavies like this.And yet, strangely, most of the fifteen Mechs seemed to be taking no part in the action. Margaidh noticed that only those Mechs which had been fired upon were firing back. The others merely stood watching.

Lee made the first mistake. Taking advantage of the _Phoenix Hawk's greater speed, she leaped past the front row of Jade Falcon Mechs at close range, firing two medium lasers at one Mech and the heavy laser at another. Abruptly the two Mechs turned their own guns onto Lee, and fired back even before she had come back down to the ground. Margaidh heard Lee's terrified scream cut short as two beams of laser fire pierced the __Phoenix Hawk's torso, and it landed in a ball of flame, it's engine core breached and belching out nuclear fire._

"Pull back!" Pritchard ordered, coming forward with the _Crusader and putting himself between the Jade Falcons and the surviving two Mechs in his own lance. Running away was not Margaidh's usual first choice of tactic, but she was smart enough to know a hopeless cause when she saw one._

But Steve McKernon gave a shout of joy. "Here comes the cavalry!" he yelled. "Yeeee-hah!"Margaidh turned and saw what looked like the whole of the Rangers, in attack formation, closing in to support the patrol. About time too; the fifteen Falcon Mechs were about to be joined by what Margaidh guessed to be the rest of the 9th Talon Cluster Hazen had mentioned. She counted over fifty Mechs, apparently organised into lances of five rather than four. On top of that were thirty airbourne fighters, and a whole swarm of…

"What the hell are those?" Margaidh exclaimed, to no-one in particular. It was a while before she realised they were men, wearing what looked like incredibly heavy powered battle-armour suits, and carrying an assortment of weapons on their backs. Swarm was right; they scurried about like ants, even climbing up the legs of the Rangers' Mechs in order to plant explosive charges or rip into breaches of armour. Sometimes they stayed back and fired short-range missiles, guns or flamers that could rapidly send a Mech into shutdown through overheating. Margaidh discovered the hard way just how difficult they were to hit.

What had at first seemed like an immovable object eventually began to move under the force of the Rangers.The Falcons, although posessed of superior firepower, were horribly out-numbered, and just as it seemed the battle would go on all night, the enemy Mechs withdrew. But the price paid by the Boys of Summer was a high one. The equivalent of almost a whole battalion of Mechs lay crippled or destroyed. Twenty mechwarriors, and over a hundred infantry, were dead and many more were injured. The heart and spirit of the Seventeenth Skye Rangers was shatttered.

Margaidh was one of the lucky ones. The _Blue Skye was still able to walk back into the base, albeit badly damaged. More than half its armour was gone, the left arm's lower actuators were frozen, and the weapons control system was playing up again. Margaidh was exhausted, trembling but relieved to be unhurt. She took her Mech into the repair bays where Techs were working frantically to get the Rangers' Mechs fixed as quickly as possible, while mechwarriors stood in quiet circles, thinking of friends and colleagues who had not made it back. Colleagues like Hannah Lee, and Hauptmann Joe Pritchard._

_ _

_Mariah's Pinnacle, Barcelona_

_Chahar Province, Federated Commonwealth_

_18th March 3050_

Margaidh awoke early the next morning, and first called upon the Mech repair bays, where Angie was busy with the _Blue Skye.Most of it's blue colour was now replaced with assorted panels of green, brown and grey where damaged armour panels had been replaced with panels salvaged from the damaged Mechs, and with anything else that could be found in storesThe short-range missile reloader was in pieces on the floor and the left arm had been stripped down to the chassis. Margaidh bit her lip, and hoped Angie would be able to find all the parts she needed._

On her way back, she heard her name called over the base PA system, with a summons to the Regiment Commander's office right away. 

Leftenant General Mitchell Simmons was an imposing figure of a man. He was well-built and well over six feet tall, with muscles of steel despite his fifty-odd years. Normally to be seen in his formal uniform with jacket of emerald green as was common among regiments from the Federation of Skye, Simmons now wore a field uniform and a mechwarrior's cooling vest hung open revealing a strong and somewhat hairy chest. Beside him was Colonel James Heaney, Simmons' First Officer. Heaney was studying a map of the region, covered in green arrows. A smaller number of blue arrows representing the defending forces seemed hopelessly inadequate.

Margaidh did her best to ignore his state of dress, and snapped a salute. "You asked to see me, Sir," she said with trepidation. The last time she had been called into this office, it had been to receive a barrage of criticism for recklessness and disregard for orders. She wondered vaguely if she had done something wrong during the attack of the Falcons.

"Leftenant Lewis?" Margaidh nodded. "Good. Sit down." She did as she was told. "Have you ever commanded a lance, Lewis?"

"Aye, Sir," Margaidh replied confidently.

Simmons narrowed his eyes at Lewis. "Your Mech is the _Blue Skye?"_

"Yes, Sir."

"Is it functional?"

"I… think so sir."

"Excellent. Now, listen carefully. I am reorganising the remaining Mechs into two battallions. The first battallion will defend the capital at Su Filla, while the second will be posted to the manufacturing centres on Vacuum Ridge." Simmons punctuated his words with stabs of his index finger on the map. "I'm putting you in the first batallion, in command of the Second Company."

Margaidh's jaw dropped. "You're giving me a company? Sir?"

"Of course I am. You're one of my best junior officers. Don't let me down."

"Thank you sir."

Simmons nodded, and Margaidh took the cue to stand. "There will be a briefing tomorrow, eight hundred hours."

"Aye, Sir," she said, trying her best to conceal her fears. Junior Leftenants with less than twelve months experience in the field do not normally command Companies.

After she had gone, Simmons stood and poured himself a large bourbon from the drinks cabinet beside his desk. He drank half of it down in one, and looked over Heaney's shoulder at the map. A map that had far too many green arrows on it. Slowly, he shook his head.

"Am I doing the right thing, Heaney?" Simmons asked, draining his glass.

"Sir?" Heaney replied with a frown.

"Sending kids like Lewis out with no preparation for whatever it is they might face. Dammit, she's less than a year out of the academy. I feel like I'm sending them to their deaths." He sat heavily down in his chair and closed his eyes. "Losing a battallion like that might just kill us all."

"The city has to be defended at all costs," Heaney responded.

"And so does the manufacturing plant, and the port. But I can't defend them all with only two battallions." Simmons shook his head, then slammed his fist down on the table, sending papers and pens flying. "Dammit, Heaney, who are they? Where are they from?" Heaney said nothing. He had no answers to those questions.

"We did inflict considerable damage to the Jade Falcons Talon, or whatever they call their battallions," Heaney said with optimism that was at least half genuine. "It may take them a while to regroup. Weeks, perhaps, even months. By then we will be ready for them. We've beaten them once, Commander."

"But at what cost, Heaney? At what cost?"

_ _

_Su Filla, Barcelona_

_Chahar Province, Federated Commonwealth_

_23rd March 3050_

Heaney was wrong. Clan Jade Falcon returned in less than a week, and as predicted their targets were Barcelona's capital city of Su Filla, and the industries of Vacuum Ridge. Only this time, they included not just the Ninth Talon Cluster, but the Third Falcon Cluster of the Jade Falcon Guards too.The Clan was back, and this time it had brought reinforcements.

The First Battallion of the 17th Skye Rangers was entrenched in defensive positions around and within the city, with half a million civillians to protect. Margaidh with them, sat in the cockpit of the _Blue Skye, waiting in silence. Around her, the rest of the Second Company; eleven other Mechs poised for the appearance of the Clans. She glanced to where Steve McKernon's __Jenner crouched behind a factory wall and allowed herself the faintest trace of a smile._

_I hope I get to see your face again, Steve._

For the fourth time in an hour, Margaidh re-checked the weapons control, and ensured that everything was standing by and ready to go.Angie had done well to repair the _Blue Skye in such a short time, when there were so many other damaged Mechs demanding their share of the limited parts available. The missile reloaders were fixed, as were the weapons control circuits. Parts for the left arm's actuators could not be found, so the arm now hung stiff and useless, but since a __Shadow Hawk's left arm carried no weapons Margaidh was not unduly worried._

_Here they come!_

Black dots on the Magscan display revealed the arrival of Clan Mechs on the hills outside the city.Margaidh watched their position on the range scale, knowing the Clan's weapons had a greater range than her own. Engaging them in open country outside the city would be suicide; the Rangers' only hope was to lure them in where buildings could provide cover.

After what seemed to Margaidh to be hours of tense waiting, the Clan Mechs took the bait, and began to close. A barrage of LRMs from the Rangers posted furthest out signalled the start of the battle. The company was well-briefed and knew it's task. Margaidh gave them only one further reminder. "Remember, the Clans duel. Only engage with one at a time."

The first Mech to come into range of Margaidh's weapons was one that had been nicknamed _Loki. It's weapons looked like a hotch-potch of pieces bolted on almost as an afterthought. A PPC on each arm, an SRM Six-pack on one shoulder, a machine gun and three medium lasers in the torso. Unlike most of the other Mechs it walked on human-like legs rather than bird-legs. It seemed apt that such a crazy-looking Mech should be named after the old Viking god of trickery. _

Margaidh launched a flight of long-range missiles, but stared in horror as a panel on the _Loki's head opened up and a weapon resembling a big machine-gun picked off each missile before they reached their target. Not perturbed for long, she brought the heavy laser to bear and a ruby beam sliced armour from the __Loki's right arm.The __Loki replied with both PPCs; the right one, still rocking from the laser hit, missed but the other crackled into the __Blue Skye's right side, melting armour plates into ceramic sludge._

A wave of heat surged as Margaidh punched the jump-jets, and the _Blue Skye soared over a building to land on the other side. Heat scales on her control panels shot from blue to the top end of the green range, but soon fell again as heat sinks in the Mech's belly absorbed the excess heat. Margaidh waited for the __Loki to come searching for her. She smiled to herself.One thing she had always admired about the __Blue Skye was that it could fire all it's weapons together and still suffer only minor overheating. Those heat scales would not hit the red zone unless the Mech became damaged._

As soon as it came into view, Margaidh reacted with lightning speed, aiming at the _Loki's already-injured right arm with both heavy and medium lasers. This time, the red beams sliced through the skeleton and the PPC fell to the floor. The __Loki turned it's left-hand cannon and fired, again striking the __Blue Skye's right torso. Armour melted and the blue lightning sliced into internal circuits. Margaidh cursed as a red light warned her the LRM launcher was no longer operational. A single, terrified thought raced through her head.__Please, God, don't hit the ammo!_

********************

From his command position in the city, Leftenant-General Mitchell Simmons watched the battle unfold, and with each passing minute, icy claws gripped tighter and tighter into his guts. The First Battallion were hopelessly outnumbered as well as being out-gunned. Courage and determination they had in plenty, but it was not enough.

He turned to his First Officer, whose face wore a deathly pallor. "Heaney, send a message immedeately, to Area Commander Hauptmann-General Bissell." Heaney stared, his eyes wide. "Ask her… no, _tell her, to send us a jump-ship ASAP. I'm pulling out, before there's no-one left."_

Heaney's eyes widened even more, and he started to sweat. "But… Sir," he began.

"It's an order, Heaney," Simmons said, his face a mask of anger and frustration. "Tell her I'm sick of watching those kids die."

********************

Anxious to avoid further onslaught from the _Loki'sremaining PPC, Margaidh dodged through a doorway into a large factory. As soon as she was inside, she noticed the heat scales rising and realised the building was in fact a foundry. Although most civillians had abandoned their work, either to seek shelter or fight with the militia, the building was awash with orange light from vats of molten metal._

The _Loki followed her inside the building and Margaidh crouched her Mech behind a large vat of metal. She raised the medium laser on the __Shadow Hawk's right arm, but the targeting system refused to pinpoint the __Loki's exact position in the confusion of machinery and hot steel. __So I'll have to do it without, she thought to herself, squinting through the steam and the darkness, and pressing the trigger._

The laser-light illuminated the _Loki in it's red glow and narrowly missed, spearing into some unidentifiable machine with a fountain of sparks. What it did achieve, however, was to show Margaidh more clearly where the Clan Mech was, to get better aim with both the large laser and a flight of short-range missiles._

As before, the _Loki's anti-missile system activated but it too seemed confused by the environment and the missiles slipped through, knocking chunks of armour from it's chest. The large laser hit the __Loki's left side, again damaging little more than armour.Margaidh's heat scales now notched up into the amber zone._

The _Loki replied to Margaidh's attack with one of its own. Three medium lasers slashed towards her but she dodged and watched them pass less than a metre from the cockpit. Then came a flight of short-range missiles, of which all but two damaged nothing but foundry machinery. More armour fell from the __Blue Skye, this time the right arm._

"Leftenant Lewis, this is Command," came Leftenant-General Simmons' voice over her headset.

"Roger, Command," Margaidh replied a little breathlessly. "I'm a wee bit busy right now. Can I call you back?" she joked, watching anxiously as the _Loki stalked around the foundry looking for her._

"Negative, Lewis, we're bugging out. Repeat, pull your company out of the city immediately."

_Damn. "Roger, Command."She hesitated, then gave the command to the rest of her company to retreat from Su Filla. Then she continued to creep, as quietly as a fifty-five ton Mech could manage, to where she estimated the __Loki to be._

Perfect! As Margaidh emerged from between two giant lathes, she saw the _Loki just a few metres ahead, with it's rear quarter towards her. "Got you, you __Sassunach!" she said aloud, letting fly with both lasers and the SRMs. As the Clan Mech's weak rear armour melted away, the __Loki abruptly stopped and started to rock slowly sideways._

With one last effort the _Loki tried to twist its torso to bring it's one PPC to bear on the __Blue Skye, but instead it seemed to buckle at the waist and overbalanced, the blue flash from the cannon powering instead into the floor. The __Loki, its gyros frozen, lay toppled on the floor, unable to move. Margaidh turned on the __Blue Skye's heels, and ran._

_Area Command - Bone Theater, Blackjack._

_Charna Province, Federated Commonwealth_

_24th March 3050_

Hauptmann-General Frances Bissell stood at the window of her office with a glass of the finest Donegal whiskey in one hand. In the other hand, she held a crumpled piece of paper that had just come through the Black Box from Barcelona. It contained details of an unusual invasion from the Periphery, along with a request from the commander of the 17th Skye Rangers for a jump-ship to evacuate his troops.

Bissell downed her whiskey in one, and started to laugh to herself. At first the report from Barcelona had been alarming, with the revelation that a new bunch of pirates calling themselves Clan Jade Falcon seemed to have equipment far superior than anything the Federated Commonwealth possessed. But having given it some thought, she decided the information could be useful. Her one main comfort was that the message had come through the Commonwealth's own Black Box communications, which meant that ComStar would not yet know anything about it. She may yet be able to use this information as a bargaining chip with their Blessed Order.

"Blessed Irritation, more like," she said aloud.

"Pardon?" replied Gavin Hall, her civillian aide, who was busy working at another desk in the long, oak-pannelled office.

"Nothing," Bissell replied, tugging at the bottom of her jacket. She sat down at her own desk and read the paper again. So the Rangers wanted to pull out did they? Maybe she would just let them sweat a little. Bissell had no sympathy for the whingeing seperatists of the Isle of Skye, and the Boys of Summer, as they still insisted on calling themselves, were probably the worst. Once the house troops of the late Duke Aldo Lestrade of Summer, the 17th Skye Rangers had been sent to Barcelona after Lestrade's death, to keep them out of the way. Frances Bissell would rather they stayed there.

"Hall, I want you to send a message to Barcelona straight away."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"The message is for Leftenant Generall Mitchell Simmons," she said, a smile on her lips. "Just tell him the answer is No."She smiled more broadly. "I also want to issue the following general order to all Jumpships in the province. _Due to hostile presence in the region of the Periphery, all requests for aid from Barcelona are to be ignored. The Federated Commonwealth will accept no responsibility for the protection of merchant ships in the vicinity of Barcelona, and any military captain breaking this order will be subject to immediate disciplinary action."_

She took another glass from the cabinet, poured a good measure of Donegal Whiskey into it and poured a similar quantity for herself. The first she handed to Hall.

"I wish to propose a toast," she said, raising her glass and waiting for a confused Hall to do likewise. "To information."

_Mariah's Pinnacle, Barcelona._

_Charna Province, Federated Commonwealth_

_29th March 3050_

** **

It was late evening when the remains ofthe Seventeenth Skye Rangers straggled in from Su Filla and Vacuum Ridge, minds numb with the shock of the carnage they had witnessed. Of a hundred and twenty Mechwarriors, only thirty-two remained, and barely two dozen Mechs were still able to move under their own power. Margaidh's only comfort was that the _Blue Skye was one of them._

But no sooner had she arrived in the repair base back at the base near Mariah's Pinnacle, than she was met by an anxious Hauptmann waving his arms at her. She opened the cockpit hatch and stood on the seat, leaning out over the Mech's battered torso.

"Head for the launchpad!" the Hauptmann yelled. "Stow your Mech and yourself in the _Overlord."_

Margaidh saluted and did as she was told.

The Dropship _Overlord had already been prepped for launch, and it sat like a huge silver bird's egg on the pad under banks of powerful halogen lamps. Techs were scurrying back and forth, loading it with any tools and spare parts they could lay their hands on. It was a gigantic vessel, the largest class of Dropship posessed by any of the Successor States. After supervising the __Blue Skye's safe installation into one of the Mech bays, Margaidh saw the Hauptmann whom she now recognised as Hauptman Elliot, with a haggard look on his face. She hurried over to him._

"Excuse me, Sir," she said, a little breathlessly.

"Yes?" Elliot looked hard at her. "Leftenant Lewis isn't it?"

"Aye, Sir. I… um…" she paused. "I was wondering what's happening."

Elliot shrugged. "All I know is we're pulling out."

"We're surrendering?" Lewis exclaimed incredulously. "Where are we going?"

"I don't have the faintest idea. Now, I suggest you get off to the crew quarters, and strap yourself in." Elliot turned away to supervise the arrival of two more battered Mechs.

"Have I got time to go to my quarters? There are a few things I want."

Elliot turned back to her and opened his mouth, on the verge of saying 'No.' Then he shrugged. "We batten down the hatches in ten minutes. If you're not back, we leave without you."

Margaidh smiled. "Thankyou, Sir!" she said, and sprinted off.She returned with a minute to spare, with a holdall that contained a few changes of clothes, her diary, a bottle of scotch and some correspondence from her mother. Then, with some trepidation she strapped herself into one of the launch-seats on the crew deck as the Dropship doors closed with an ominous clang.

Margaidh took a cautious look around the faces in the Dropship. No-one spoke, except in hushed voices. She recognised only two from her Company, and their faces were pale and haggard. Only three survivors from a Company of twelve. Margaidh felt a sudden wave of panic as she wondered just how many of those nine deaths had been her fault. The welfare of a Company was the responsibility of its Commander. Was there something else she could have done? Something that might have brought even one more of those nine back home safely?

Only as the Dropship's engines rumbled and Margaidh felt the lurch as it lifted off did she realise that Sergeant McKernon was not there.

_In-system, Barcelona_

_Charna Province, Federated Commonwealth_

_30th March 3050_

As the Dropship left the azure-blue of Barcelona behind, and entered the blackness of space, Margaidh felt a sudden relaxing of gravity. It was not weightlessness; the Dropship's internal gravity was maintained at just below one G, but in contrast to the strain of take off, it made Margaidh feel suddenly heady. She unbuckled her seat straps and stood up, heading for one of the little round windows from where she watched Barcelona slipping away like a shining disk of blue and gold. From this distance it looked so tranquil and beautiful, with no trace of the carnage that had occurred there over the past two weeks. With the defeat of the Rangers, the first world of the Inner Sphere was now in the hands of an unknown and powerful enemy. 

Ahead of the Overlord was nothing but a black sea of stars lighting the way to the unknown future. One such star shone much more brightly than the others, and as the Dropship pulled closer Margaidh recognised it not as a distant star but as the kilometer-wide solar sail of a Jumpship, extended to collect solar radiation that would recharge the Jumpship's drives.Margaidh frowned, wondering where the Jumpship was from, and where it would take the surviving Boys of Summer.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, Leftenant?" said a voice behind her. Margaidh turned round and looked straight into the face of Sergeant Steve McKernon. She let out a cry of relief and threw her arms around him.

"God, Steve! You're alive!"

"Hey! Ow! Steady on!" he said, twisting away from Margaidh's grip. She noticed then that his arm was bandaged and hitched up in a sling. "I got sliced up by a shard of glass when my cockpit blew," he said.

"Why weren't you on the crew deck when we launched?" Margaidh asked with a frown.

"I got on board just before we took off, so I stayed with what was left of my Mech until the floor stopped moving." He paused, and looked around the cabin. "Not many of us left, is there?"

Margaidh shook her head and looked at McKernon's face. For a moment, she found him rather attractive. He was a year older than she, and although he was no taller he was fit and muscular, as most Mechwarriors were. A lock of dark brown hair hung over his left eye, and Margaidh noticed with a sudden stab of pain just how haunted those pale blue eyes were. Like herself, McKernon had seen too much of death.

"What about the Commander?" Margaidh asked. "I haven't seen him here yet."

"He chose to stay behind."

"Why?" Margaidh asked incredulously.

McKernon shrugged. "Maybe he thinks he can negotiate with them or something."

Margaidh shook her head. "He must be crazy."_Or he couldn't face the rest of us, knowing we'd lost. Knowing he'd let us down.She felt the sharp sting of tears in her eyes._

"Was it my fault, Steve?" she asked quietly. Steve McKernon just frowned. "Three quarters of my Company didn't come back. How many of those deaths were my fault?" She looked at him with pleading in her eyes.

McKernon shook his head. "No, Leftenant. None of those deaths were your fault. If you must blame someone, blame Clan Jade Falcon."

"I can't help thinking that there might have been something more I could have done. I spent half the battle running round the foundry dodging a _Loki, and by the time I finished, the battle was over."_

"That's not quite what I heard, Leftenant," McKernon said. Margaidh looked at him sharply. "I heard that you lured it away from the rest of your lance, and after the retreat was called, you didn't pull out until you killed it."

Margaidh allowed herself a faint smile. "I guess I could be on charges for that," she replied. "It won't be the first time I've been pulled up for reckless disregard of orders."

"They'll be calling you a hero, Leftenant. "And I'm proud to serve under you." He extended his good hand for Margaidh to shake, but instead she embraced him again, more carefully this time. McKernon held her until she stopped crying.


	2. 7 April 3050

_Black Earth Spaceport_

_Charna Province, Federated Commonwealth_

_7th April 3050_

Margaidh never got the chance to thank Captain Harrison for breaking orders, and diverting his Jumpship to Barcelona to evacuate the Rangers.Harrison had already picked up the remnants of the First Grave Walkers' mercenary regiment from Bone Norman, which had also been captured by the Clan Jade Falcon. He'd heard news from other planets too; from Steelton, Here and Winfield, and he knew that this was no ordinary pirate incursion.As a native of Summer himself, Harrison was not about to ignore the cries for help from the regiment he considered his own, even though he never was fortunate enough to serve with them.

Harrison was the shy type, and for the whole seven day trip to Black Earth (seven days recharging the Kearney-Fuchida drives, and seven seconds gut-wrenching hyperspace jump) Harrison stayed out of sight.

The first thing that crossed Margaidh's mind when she disembarked from the Dropship onto the tarmac at the Black Earth spaceport was that the place lived up to it's name. It's climate seemed as grey and miserable as that on Summer, and in the distance dark hills loomed, forboding and grim-looking. The spaceport itself sprawled across the land like a steel and concrete fungus clinging for sustenance to the black hillside.Margaidh pulled the collar of her jacket up around her neck as a barrier against the chill, damp air, and longed for the sunny warmth of Barcelona.

"Pretty place, isn't it?" said Steve McKernon with a wry smile.

"Just right for sunbathing," Margaidh replied, looking up at the pale red M-class sun in it's hazy grey sky. "No chance of sunburn."

The mercenaries, who had kept themselves to themselves during the journey, moved what was left of their regiment to the capital city of New Houston, some four hundred kilometers away. Maybe they had contacts there, maybe someone told them to go there, Margaidh didn't know.All she knew was that the Rangers had been ordered to stay garrisoned in the Spaceport itself, to defend it in the event of possible attack.She hoped fervently that their support would not be needed, and steeled herself for a dull tour, however short it might be before the remaining Rangers were shipped back to Summer. _The sooner the better, she thought as she looked around. __This place looks about as exciting as the back of beyond._

********************

After settling the Mechs and other vehicles in the repair bay, which was surprisingly well supplied for such an out-of-the-way place, Margaidh sought out Steve and together they explored what was to become their home, for a while at least. To their surprise and relief, it seemed as though it was not going to be as dull as Margaidh had feared.Because the spaceport was so isolated, it had evolved into a city of it's own, with everything it's inhabitants might need. Shops, restaurants, even casinos and venues for such sports as boxing and Babaeski Hockey, both of which were too violent for Margaidh's taste.

They found a bar called _Stevie's Place and Steve McKernon insisted on trying it out. Margaidh was in no mood to object; a good stiff drink was exactly what she needed.She followed the Sergeant into the bar, and immediately wondered if they had made the right choice._

_Stevie's Place was dark and smoky, with loud dance-music piped through a cheap PA system. Pink and blue neon lights pulsed in time with the heavy, pounding beat.There was a dance floor but no-one was dancing; it was too crowded with heavy-set, heavy-drinking dockworkers and techs. Steve pushed his way to a table in a corner and they sat down. Margaidh frowned at him. "Are you sure about this?" she mouthed above the loud music. Steve shrugged._

Just as Margaidh was about to change her mind and go somewhere else, a waitress in a short leather skirt came up to the table. "What d'ya want to drink?" she said brusquely, and blew a bubble in a wad of gum.

Steve hesitated, not wanting to seem unmannerly in front of his superior officer. Margaidh sensed his unease, and ordered for them. "Two PPCs," she said, or rather shouted.

"What's a PPC?" Steve hissed.

"Rocket fuel, mixed with the spirit of your choice," Margaidh replied. "Named after the successor houses."

"What's in a Steiner?"

"Peppermint schnapps." She paused, trying to remember what the others were. "Ouzo for Marik, Bourbon for Davion, Peach brandy for Liao. And the Kuritans mix it with Sake, which is a bit like dousing fire with kerosene."

"Steiner sounds good to me."

Margaidh turned to the waitress. "One Steiner style, and one Skye."

The waitress frowned, and chewed hard on her gum. "Never heard of that one," she drawled.

"Not surprised. I made it up," Margaidh replied with a wolfish grin. "Cut it with a double Scotch."

"Gotcha." The waitress turned and walked back towards the bar, waggling her backside.

When the drinks arrived at the table, Steve just held his glass, watching the clear liquid vibrating slightly with the pulsing beat of the music. Margaidh watched him cautiously sniff it, then take a hesitant sip and pull a face, and she smiled.

An ability to stomach strong drink was a Celtic trait Margaidh had inherited from her far-away ancestors in the Scottish islands. She swirled her drink once around the glass then threw her head back and downed it in one go. Steve stared in surprise then, not wanting to be out-done, attempted to do the same.

Margaidh watched his face pass from curiosity, briefly through pleasure, and into sudden shock. When he'd finished coughing, he paused and stared at Margaidh, then at her empty glass, with wide eyes. "Don't ever ask me to get into a drinking contest with you," he said, as soon as his throat had recovered from the burning sensation sufficiently for him to speak. He looked down at the remnants of his drink, and drained the rest of it. Margaidh ordered another PPC for herself, Steve backed out and asked for a beer.

Later, they sat outside under the starlight where the air was cool and the noise faint enough to allow conversation. "Where the hell did you learn to drink like that?" Steve asked, seeing Leftenant Lewis in a new light.

Margaidh shrugged. "My mother, I guess." She smiled to hide the sudden sharp stab of pain she felt when she remembered how heavily her mother had taken to the bottle in an attempt to drown the depression after her accident. "She always seemed so strong to me. A real warrior. And then suddenly the fire inside her was gone. She hit the bottle hard after her accident." She paused. It was not often she spoke about her mother the way she was after the accident. Maybe the strong drink had loosened her tongue.

Steve sensed Margaidh's pain and held her hand. Margaidh squeezed it in return. She looked at him with an expression that bordered on desperation. "If anything happens to you, don't give up fighting. Never give up."

"What do you…" Steve began, confused.

"Promise me."

Steve shook his head then shrugged. "Okay, I promise," he said.

Margaidh smiled and stood up, looking at the moonless sky and suddenly realising how cold it had become. "Let's go home," she said, trying to suppress the images of Summer she saw in her mind. They put their arms around one another and walked back to their quarters in mutual support.

_Black Earth Spaceport_

_Charna Province, Federated Commonwealth_

_11th May 3050_

In the space of a mere five weeks, the Seventeenth Skye Rangers settled in to their new home and their new routine. There was little to do except eat and drink and gamble, and those whose Mechs still functioned could maintain some attempt at training. All attempts at military discipline were abandoned in favour of a boost to morale. But behind the thin veneer of relaxation, every warrior was haunted by the memory of Barcelona, and the anticipation of a return to Summer. No-one, not even the most cynical, dared contemplate that it might all happen again.But it did.

The first indication Margaidh had that something was amiss was when the aerospace fighters, boosted by local support, suddenly scrambled just after dawn. The shrieks of their engines as they launched, combined with the wailing of klaxons, aroused Margaidh from a disturbed sleep and she had pulled on her cooling vest and shorts even before she was fully awake. When she arrived in the Mech bays, the rest of the Rangers' mechwarriors were prepping their mechs, their faces showing noticeable fear tempered with a warrior's determination. Margaidh knew that each of them was prepared to die in the defense of this anonymous world.

She powered up the _Blue Skye's engine and marched it out of the Mech bay, catching a glimpse of Steve McKernon's __Jenner a couple of hundred metres ahead. Around her, a hotch-potch of patched-up Mechs that made up the First Company of what was barely a battallion of Mechs and tanks. Margaidh hadn't wanted to take command of a company again, but as one of only three surviving officers of her rank, she figured she didn't have much choice._

The Rangers didn't even have time to take up defensive positions. The Clan Mechs, with their falcon emblem painted white instead of green, were already swarming in through the Spaceport's perimeter.Margaidh ordered her company to scatter into cover in the hope that the wider-spread they were, the greater the chance that a few might survive.

She touched a panel and made sure the computer in the cockpit was recording the battle. Everything the Mech did and all communication in or out, would be recorded on the _Blue Skye's Battleroms. Margaidh wondered briefly if anyone would get the chance to read them.She spoke aloud into her neurohelmet._

"…Yet I will try the last, before my body I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him that first cries 'Hold, enough!'"She knew that if her mother ever got to hear the recording, she would recognise the snatch of the old Shakesperean play.Margaidh paused, then spoke again. "For you, Mam. And for Summer."Then she turned the _Blue Skye to face it's foe._

An hour later, the Seventeenth Skye Rangers were overpowered. The _Blue Skye lay toppled, stripped of armour, both legs blown away and not a single weapon remaining. In the cockpit, Leftenant Margaidh Lewis gradually stirred and moaned as consciousness returned. Slowly becoming aware that the Mech was lying on it's side, she felt a sudden surge of panic. Inside the body of a Mech beat a nuclear heart, and if it breached, the results were terminal. _

She hurriedly unbuckled the safety harness and fell out of the seat, crying aloud as a sharp pain in her chest informed her that she'd broken at least one rib in the fall. She wiped at sweat that was running down her face, but her hand came away red with blood, not sweat. Cautiously, Margaidh tested her legs and struggled to release the canopy.When it opened she half- clambered, half-fell out of the cockpit, landing in a heap on the dark, clay-like earth. Her eyes screwed tight with pain.

"You will come with me," said a stern voice above her. Margaidh's eyes snapped open and she found herself looking up the barrel of a hand laser. The gun was held by a warrior in a khaki-coloured tunic with a green falcon badge on one lapel. His face was stern-looking, and framed by short, mousey hair.

"Who the hell are you?" Margaidh said, making no attempt to stand.

"I am Star Commander Uvin Buhallin of the First Gyrfalcon Jaeger Cluster. You are _Isorla. You will come with me."_

Star Commander Uvin Buhallin kept his pistol levelled at Margaidh's forehead, and it was clear he was not going to move it until she did as she was told. Margaidh narrowed her eyes. "You'll have to kill me first, you bastard," she hissed.

Buhallin did not kill Margaidh. Instead, he grabbed her roughly by the arm and hauled her to her feet with a strength that belied his wiry frame. Stars flashed before her eyes as pain from her broken ribs ripped through her.

"You are _Isorla," Buhallin repeated. "You belong to me."_

For a brief moment, Margaidh considered making a run for freedom, and she glanced around for somewhere to run to. But there was nowhere. Her gaze fell at last on the broken hulk of the _Blue Skye, damaged now beyond repair, and tears sprung to her eyes.For generations, the Mech had faithfully served the Lewis family warriors. Now it was nothing more than a pile of junk, and Margaidh was now disposessed. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she realised that she had disposessed not just herself, but the whole Lewis family, and any generation that may come after her._

"You will come with me now," said Buhallin, beginning to get impatient.

"Wait," Margaidh said quietly, and reached out with her free hand to touch the _Shadowhawk's shoulder. With a single deft movement, she pulled free a piece of shattered armour panelling, no more than half the size of her palm. On one side it still bore a trace of blue paint, now charred and peeling. She held the fragment for a moment in her fist, then slipped it into a pocket and looked squarely at Buhallin._

"I will go with you now." 

_In-system, Black Earth_

_Jade Falcon Occupation Zone._

_Aboard the Cruiser 'Frost-Falcon'_

_12th May 3050._

Margaidh did not know how many prisoners had been taken, or how many Rangers had lost their lives on Black Earth. She spent many hours sitting on the bunk in her cell, wondering what had happened to Steve McKernon, absently turning the fragment of armour from the _Blue Skye in her fingers._

_Isorla. That's what Buhallin had called her. Since then she had gathered that it's meaning was not so much 'prisoner' as 'spoils of war.' Margaidh was considered property, and Buhallin was adamant that she belonged to him._

He came into the cell, dressed this time in a full dress uniform complete with green cape that flowed around him almost like wings. Margaidh scowled at him.

"What is your name, Freebirth?" Buhallin asked, or rather demanded.

"I am Leftenant Margaidh Lewis, of the Seventeenth Skye Rangers," Margaidh replied.

"You are NOT Margaidh Lewis!" Buhallin exclaimed. He stressed the word 'not' by hitting her hard across the jaw, so hard she felt her teeth rattle in her head. "You are Margaidh of Clan Jade Falcon," Buhallin said. "You are my bondsman. The Seventeenth Skye Rangers no longer exist."

Margaidh's fingers gingerly touched her cheek. "I don't give a damn who you think I am. I am a Lewis, and I will always be a Lewis, and a Ranger." Her voice was full of anger and hatred.

Buhallin hit Margaidh again. "You are Margaidh of Clan Jade Falcon," he repeated. He grabbed hold of her right wrist and held it vice-tight. With his other hand he deftly tied something round it, and let it go. Margaidh frowned at the narrow bracelet of woven cord in colours of jade-green, blue and white."You are an Inner Sphere Freebirther, and that makes you nothing. You are my bondsman, and that is the bondcord which binds you to me."

"I am no-one's slave!" Margaidh hissed. "I'd rather die than be slave to you."

"You are mistaken, freebirther," Buhallin said with a scowl."You should feel honoured to be bondsman to a Jade Falcon, strongest of the descendants of Kerensky. To the true Star League army."

Margaidh stared at the Clan warrior, her eyes wide. Three hundred years ago, the area of inhabited space known as the Inner Sphere was thrown into turmoil and conflict by the sudden exodus of eighty percent of the Star League Defense Force, under the leadership of Aleksandr Kerensky. A thousand warships carrying the best military technology, and eight hundred thousand of the Inner Sphere's best warriors, disappeared across the Periphery and were never heard from again. The Star League collapsed and the Successor Houses emerged, along with three hundred years of almost constant war as the Houses struggled against the others to re-form the Star League, each under it's own banner. Out of history, a legend was born, and it was often said that one day Kerensky would return, and re-form the Star League, uniting the Inner Sphere once more in peace.

The trouble with a legend is that no-one really expects it to come true.

_In-System, Alkalurops_

_Jade Falcon Occupation Zone_

_Aboard the Cruiser 'Frost Falcon'_

_15th May 3050_

Buhallin led Margaidh down an endless labyrinth of corridors inside the Cruiser, with steel floors that echoed their footsteps. He stopped her outside a plain, unmarked metal door, knocked once, then openedit and indicated that she went inside. She did so, and found herself in a room that was small and equally plain. It could have been another cell like the one in which Margaidh had been imprisoned, only this one was furnished in a way that made her blood run cold.

There were no furnishings in the room save a single chair, on which Margaidh could clearly see manacles for holding wrists and ankles.Behind it stood man, fair hair and blue eyes, aged maybe forty. Margaidh thought he could have been quite handsome, if it hadn't been for the scar across his left cheek; a broad thread of red on a pale skin. Buhallin bowed a little to the man, and called him _Ovkhan. Margaidh couldn't be sure if that was his name or his title. The quotation from Macbeth sprang back to her mind, and she decided to call him, secretly at least, Macduff._

Holding Margaidh firmly by the shoulders, Buhallin shoved her towards the chair, and she tried to twist away, but was abruptly stopped by pain from her still tender ribs. She was forced to sit, and Buhallin closed the manacles around her wrists and ankles while she struggled and squirmed in vain. So she used the only remaining demonstration of resistance, and spat in his face. Her reward for that was a cruel punch from Buhallin, just exactly where her broken ribs hurt most.

Macduffpushed past Buhallin, who stepped a side for his superior. The first thing he did was ask her the same question Buhallin had asked. "What is your name, freebirther?" His accent, like Buhallin's was oddly old-fashioned.

Margaidh said nothing. She had no intention of telling her captors anything they wanted to know. Besides, she wasn't sure she could still speak at all. Her chest felt as though it was on fire, even breathing was an ordeal. Macduff repeated the question, his voice remaining calm. Margaidh squinted at him. "Lady Macbeth," she panted. "Go fuck yourself."

Macduff nodded at Buhallin, who slapped her hard across the face with enough force to knock her head against the side of the chair's headrest. She felt a trickle of blood running where his fist had hit her, just below her right eye.

"Where is your Codex?" Buhallin demanded, his voice full of contempt

Margaidh frowned. "I don't know what one is, so I assume I have nae got one," she replied. She noticed Macduff flash a look of surprise at her.

"There is no need for this resistance, Margaidh." Macduff said, his calm voice a contrast to the rage in Buhallin's. "Just tell us what we wish to know, and you will not be hurt."

_You can't fool me, Macduff. I recognise the good-guy-bad-guy routine. I'd rather die than betray my people._

"What is your bloodline?" Macduff demanded.

Margaidh narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm a Lewis," she said, with a trace of agressive pride.

"Who are your blood-parents?"

"None of your goddamned business." That earned another slap from Buhallin, but by now Margaidh was beyond caring. She already hurt so much a few more thumps wouldn't make a lot of difference.

Macduff tried another tack. "Did your regiment provide you with your battlemech?" he demanded.

"No. It belongs to me. Or it did, before your pirates wrecked it."

Buhallin lifted his arm to swing at her again but Macduffput up a hand to stay his blow, and he simply asked another question. "Where did it come from?"

Margaidh closed her eyes and clamped her mouth shut. This was all getting too serious now, and she resolved she was going to say nothing more.

Buhallin, evidently getting fed up with Macduff's ineffective questioning, decided to ask a few of his own. He started with a demand to know the size and locations of the Federated Commonwealth's armed forces. Margaidh spat at him again, but said nothing. Buhallin's fist made a ball and cannoned into her solar plexus, making her gasp with pain.

"Tell us what we wish to know!" he demanded.

Margaidh lifted her head and looked at him. "I'd rather die than talk to scum like you."

She never knew how long Buhallin laid into her after that. All she knew was the pain that washed over her in waves, and when he finally finished, she had to be carried back to her cell.

_In-System, Alkalurops_

_Jade Falcon Occupation Zone_

_Aboard the Cruiser 'Frost Falcon'_

_24th May 3050_

Margaidh did not know how long she was left alone in her cell. She slept most of the time, mostly because being awake meant she was moving about and that hurt too much. Every so often, someone would bring her a tray of food and she used that as some measure of the passage of time. Since Buhallin had beaten her up, she had been fed eighteen times.

The nineteenth meal was exactly the same as all the previous ones. A sort of milky soup, with some sort of fibrous substance in it that might have been meat, or a synthetic substitute. It was tasteless but surprisingly satisfying. Either that, or Margaidh had no appetite.

As she ate, she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the back of the metal spoon. Even allowing for the distortion, she loked a mess. The right side of her face was one mass of bruises, and both eyes were blackened, the right one swelled half-shut.

"You look as rough as you feel," she said aloud to herself.

The first sign that something was amiss was when, instead of a guard returning to take her empty tray, the cell door opened and Buhallin came in, his face bearing a contemptuous sneer.

"Come with me, Freebirther," he said.

Margaidh stood, slowly and painfully. She had no energy to resist this time.

She was taken to the same room and put in the same chair, but this time, Buhallin rolled up her sleeve and placed a square of blue plastic on her arm. It felt cold and sticky, and then a strange tingling sensation started to grow in her arm, and spread up towards her shoulder.

"Just a little something to ensure your co-operation," he said with a smile that was more a snarl. "I am sure you do not want another beating, quineg?"

Margaidh glanced at Macduff, who was this time seated in a chair across the room, with a large file rested on his knee. _It looks serious this time. Mother of Gods! What drugs are they putting into me?She felt a warm glow all over now, that was actually quite pleasant. Rather like the way she felt when she'd had a couple of double scotches._

As before, Macduff started the questioning, and he began by repeating the ones he'd asked before. "What is your bloodline."

"I told you last time," Margaidh snapped back with sudden irritation. "I'm a Lewis."

"Who provided your paternal genes?"

Margaidh frowned. "You mean my father?" She saw Macduff wince slightly, and shrugged. "I don't know. My mother never told me anything about him. She only knew him a few weeks." She bit her lip, alarmed at how much she'd said already. _Get a grip, Margaidh! Concentrate! Fight it!_

"Who provided your maternal genes?"

"My mother is Eleanor Lewis," Margaidh said, lifting her chin.

"Is she a mechwarrior?"

"No. She's a teacher in a university on Summer. That's my home planet, in the Isle of Skye." _Don't tell him any more!But already her head felt light and woozy. "She used to be a Mechwarrior, years ago. But she got injured, and gave me her Mech."_

"Your Mech…" Macdiff interrupted. "Tell me where it came from."

Margaidh shrugged. "It's been in my family since… well, since Starleague days I guess," she replied. She gave an involuntary giggle.

"The _Shadowhawk has modifications," Macduff said, again making a statement rather than asking a question. However, from the quizzical expression on his face it was clear he expected Margaidh to tell more._

"You mean the laser instead of the autocannon? That's been there as long as I remember. It's part of what makes the _Blue Skye unique. I've been having problems with it though," she added, trying to shake the lightness from her head._

"What sort of problems?"

"The control circuits were playing up." Margaidh noticed Macduff's quizzical expression. It was clear he did not understand her colloquial manner of speech. "Playing up? Not working."

Macduff nodded. "What about heat sinks?"

"One extra one added, where the autocannon ammo would normally be," Margaidh replied.

"Single or double heat sinks?" Macduff asked. Margaidh frowned, and shook her head. Macduff asked another question. "The control computer," he said. "Tell me where that came from."

Margaidh's frown did not lessen. She knew the computer in the _Blue Skye was not a __Shadowhawk standard, but it had always been there and she didn't know where it came from, and she told him so._

"One more thing," Macduff said, consulting his file and reading from it. "'…Yet I will try the last, before my body I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him that first cries 'Hold, enough!'" He read the quotation awkwardly, the timing all wrong, and to Margaidh it sounded strange. Macduff stared hard at Margaidh with his penetrating blue eyes. "What does that mean?" he said.

Margaidh shrugged, wondering that the data from the _Blue Skye's Battleroms had actually been readable, despite the damage. "It's a quotation from 'Macbeth,'" she replied, vaguely wondering whether saying the name of the play aloud would bring her bad luck, then deciding that her luck probably couldn't get any worse. _

Macduff looked puzzled. "Explain," he snapped. "What significance does it have?"

"Macbeth says that just before he faces Macduff, his enemy, in battle," Margaidh said. "He knows he is going to die."

"You said that because you thought you were going to die, _quiaff?" Macduff said. "You identify yourself with this character Macbeth?" He stared at Margaidh, who only nodded. "Why?"_

"Because he was a Scot, and so am I," Margaidh replied. "You're right. I did think I was going to die. Better warriors than I have died a the hands of your people."

"You are not a warrior, freebirther," Macduff said, his anger rising to match Margaidh's own. The scar on his cheek reddened. "You are a bondsman."

"I will never be a slave to your people," Margaidh hissed. Anger coursed through her, but again she giggled, and that only served to make her angrier. "I am a Mechwarrior, I am a Scot and I am a Lewis. You can't take that from me without draining the blood from my veins." Her fists clenched so hard she felt her fingernails biting into her palms.

Buhallin tore the blue patch from her arm and replaced it with a fresh one. "You are a strong-willed little vixen, quiaff? Let us see how strong you are when we raise the pressure." 

Margaidh fought against a wave of dizziness, and she got the sensation that the chair was moving, as if it were a rock slowly turning in space. The sensation made her feel nauseous.

"Do you know the size of the armed forces of the Clan Kurita?"

Margaidh giggled at the thought of the Draconis Combine being referred to as a Clan. _What does he want to know that for? We're nowhere near the Combine."I dunno," she replied. "Officially, they say about a hundred regiments, but they always lie."_

"What about Miraborg?"

Margaidh frowned, trying to work out what Clan Miraborg might be, then remembering Miraborg was the name of the Rasalhagian leader. She shrugged. "I dunno. Not many. Eighteen, at a guess."

"How many does Steiner have?"

_No! The Federated Commonwealth is my home!_

"I can't remember," Margaidh hissed through clenched teeth.

"How many regiments in Clan Steiner?"

"It's not Steiner, you cretin. It's Steiner-Davion now. The richest house married the strongest and their armed forces merged."

"How many regiments?"

_I won't give in! I won't tell you!But the words were on the tip of her tongue even before she'd realised she knew the answer. "One hundred and fifty-three."_

Margaidh's heart sank when she saw the smile on Buhallin's lips. "Thankyou," he said. "You have been most helpful."

_Mother of Gods! What have I done? But she knew the answer to that one, and even through her drugged haze she knew exactly what she had done. She had just betrayed the Commonwealth. No matter that, like her mother, Margaidh did not approve of the Steiner-Davion alliance, the Commonwealth was still her home, and would remain so until such time as the Isle of Skye won it's independence. The fact that the drugs had loosened her tongue did not lessen her feeling of self-loathing._

_Benden City, Alkalurops_

_Clan Jade Falcon Occupation Zone_

_2nd June 3050_

Star Colonel Rard Hoyt, the man whom Margaidh had nicknamed Macduff, paced anxiously up and down the corridor outside the office belonging to Galaxy Commander Samantha Clees. Hoyt was afraid of Samantha Clees. Her temper was notoriously short and Hoyt had heard of many a warrior who had all but broken down under her harsh criticism. Only male warriors received the wrath of Samantha Clees.

The door opened and Uvin Buhallin looked out. "She will see you now, Colonel," he replied, and Hoyt followed the younger man inside.

The office had once been the communication center ofthe Alkalurops Militia, a defense force that had offered little resistance to the mighty talons of the Gyrfalcon Galaxy. Now it was occupied by the Galaxy Commander, and a large wallhanging depicting the white falcon that was the Galaxy's emblem hung on one wall.

In the centre of the room was a large oak table, at which Galaxy Commander Clees was seated, with two men wearing Wolf Clan uniforms. So that explained the presence of the _Lion's Pride Jumpship in the system, Hoyt thought to himself. He forced a smile to mask his loathing of the men in the Wolf Clan uniforms._

Nevertheless, they all stood and Clees introduced them to Hoyt with a politeness as forced as Hoyt's own smile.

"This is Star Colonel Athen, of the 328th Assault Cluster, Alpha Galaxy, Clan Wolf," said Clees, giving the man's full title. Hoyt gave a brief nod, and took Athen's hand in a brief handshake. Athen's stocky build towered above Hoyt and with his longish grey hair and beard, Hoyt likened him to a bear.

Athen smiled, his own expression genuine, and he turned to introduce the slender, dark-haired man beside him. "This is Star Commander Domask Lewis," he said. Hoyt raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and shook Lewis' hand also.

Hoyt took a seat opposite Athen, Buhallin beside him. Clees remained standing and stalked cat-like to the window.

"I will come straight to the point, StarColonel Hoyt," said Athen, his voice gruff. "You have a freebirther called Margaidh in your custody, quiaff?"

"Aff," Hoyt replied. "She was captured on Black Earth, and is bondsman to Uvin Buhallin." Hoyt glanced briefly at Buhallin, and he noticed the expression of veiled anger on the younger man's face.

"We wish to take posession of this bondsman, and whatever is left of her Mech."

Hoyt's eyes widened, and the scar on his cheek pulsed bright red. He turned to Clees who merely smiled. Evidently she had already been told what this meeting was about. Hoyt shook his head. "That is absolutely out of the question," he said, fighting against a stammer. "She was captured fairly and with honour. She is the rightful property of Clan Jade Falcon."

Athen gave a short, barking laugh. "I suppose you have noticed, Rard Hoyt, that your bondsman bears the name of Lewis, quiaff?"

"Neg," Hoyt snapped. "She is _Isorla. She is the property of Clan Jade Falcon and no longer bears that name."_

"And I trust you are aware that Lewis is a bloodname of Clan Wolf."

Hoyt returned Athen's smile with a snarl. "That bloodname is not exclusive to your Clan. As I recall, the Wolves stole it from Clan Coyote. Your clan has only four bloodlines in the Lewis House."

"While the Falcons have none," Athen replied quickly. "I trust you will co-operate with us in this. I am certain you would wish to avoid a formal challenge."

Hoyt looked incredulously at Athen. "Would you really go to a Trial of Possession over the genes of a freebirther, just because of her name?"

"A Trial of Possession?" Athen raised an eyebrow, though his surprise at Hoyt's suggestion was merely pretended. "That is what it will take, quiaff_?"_

Hoyt paused, and looked again at Clees. Clees looked back at him with a smile and an expression that said _I do not care what you do.Hoyt glanced at Athen's companion. "So you are a Lewis also, quiaff__?" he said. "I assume the challenge is yours?" He allowed the faintest sneer to pass briefly across his face, to let the Wolf know he considered House Lewis to be an inferior Bloodname._

Domask Lewis nodded, his dark eyes fixed on Hoyt's blue ones. "Margaidh will be my bondsman," he replied. "Assuming my challenge is successful, of course," he added with a smile that veiled quiet confidence.

"We shall see, Star Commander Domask Lewis," said Hoyt quietly. "We shall see."

********************

The first thing Margaidh noticed when she was introduced to Star Commander Domask Lewis were the badges he wore on his jacket. Most prominent on his left lapel was the wolf's head badge of his clan, and beside it was the badge of the 328th Assault Cluster, a golden lion's head holding a red heart in it's teeth. But the badge he wore on his arm made Margaidh stare.

It depicted a series of vertical stripes in subdued spectral colours, over which was imposed an ellipse through which the colours appeared washed out, almost pastel. Margaidh recognised it instantly. It was the badge of her home planet, Summer.

"You're a Lewis?" Margaidh asked quietly. The last thing she had expected to encounter as a prisoner of the Clans was another Lewis. "Where did you get the badge?" she added, pointing at the Summer emblem.

Domask looked curiously at her. "It is a tradition among warriors of my bloodname," he said. "We wear it in honour of the Lewis who stayed behind." He sat down beside Margaidh and looked at her, studying her face. "Are you familiar with the name Donald Lewis?"Margaidh shook her head. "At the time of the Exodus there were two brothers on Summer. Their names were Donald and Duncan Lewis.Duncan, the older brother, left with Aleksandr Kerensky and became the founder of my bloodname. My ancestor. Donald could not bear to leave his father, who was old and too sick to travel far. So he stayed on Summer, even though he too wanted to go with them. We wear the badge of Summer in honour of Donald Lewis and his sacrifice.Donald Lewis is your ancestor."

Margaidh stared back at Lewis. "Then… I suppose we're cousins, of a sort. A dozen times removed."

Domask nodded."Have you heard of the term Trial of Possession?" he asked. Margaidh shook her head. "When there is a dispute among the Clans, we hold a trial of combat.In this particular case, Clan Wolf wishes to claim you, because you are descended of the Lewis bloodname which belongs to our clan. Jade Falcon does not wish to let you go, so a Trial of Possession is held."

"And I am the prize that goes to the winner?" Margaidh said.

"Aff," Domask replied, using the Clan term for 'yes'.

Margaidh laughed. "I can't believe you guys are actually fighting over me. The Falcons treat me like scum, why don't they just hand me over to you?"

"Because you are too valuable. A bargaining chip against the clan the Jade Falcons hate."

Margaidh looked at Domask, searching for any feature that would mark him as a Lewis. He had no trace of a Scottish accent, and his colouring was uncharacteristically dark. But there was something in his brown eyes that Margaidh thought she recognised; the same fire and passion that once burned in her mother. She estimated his age at thirty-five or so, but he had a haunted look about him, as if he were older than that. "Will you be fighting for Clan Wolf?" she asked quietly.

"Aff," said Domask. "And Uvin Buhallin will fight for the Falcons."

"Who should I cheer for?" Margaidh asked with a smile.

Domask touched Margaidh's cheek where a partly-healed scar showed a faint line of red. "Do you enjoy being bonded to Clan Jade Falcon?"

Margaidh shook her head.

"Then cheer for me." Domask stood, and left Margaidh's cell. Margaidh watched him go, and somehow she knew she would see him again.

_Benden City, Alkalurops_

_Clan Jade Falcon Occupation Zone_

_18th June 3050_

On the day of the Trial, Margaidh was awoken early from sleep and taken to the arena, a region just outside Benden City set aside for trials such as this. The arena was a vast stretch ofrough ground interspersed with the occasional patch of scrubby, leafless trees. The ground was covered with a light dusting of frost that glistened in the sunlight. In the time she had lived with the Falcon clan, Margaidh had become accustomed to the strange honour system the warriors favoured, and she had a good idea of what was going on.

The warriors had bid down to one Mech each, and Uvin Buhallin had elected to choose the site of the battle. He had wisely chosen the Benden City arena, while Domask Lewis, on unfamiliar soil, had chosen the Mechs in which they would fight. The chosen Mech was a strange bird-like thing the Clan warriors called a _Mad Dog; about sixty tons and not especially fast, but loaded with a barrage of powerful arm-mounted pulse lasers and with two twenty-pack long-range missile systems on it's shoulders. For it's size, it was formidably armed, but judging from the expression on Buhallin's face, he was unaccustomed to piloting a __Mad Dog._

Margaidh knew from her own encounters with Clan Mechs that a Clan LRM had no mimimum range and was as deadly at short range as it was at a distance. This battle would be a short and bloody one.

The arena was bathed in sunlight but it was winter in Alkalurops and the air was chill; Margaidh huddled for warmth in her plain Clan-issue jacket, the uniform of the labourer caste. Around her were a knot of warriors; colleagues of Uvin Buhallin, and Margaidh suspected their presence was not so much to support their commander but to ensure she did not try to escape.

Domask Lewis began the proceedings with a formalised ritual in which he announced his identity and his challenge, and requesting the defender identify himself also. Uvin Buhallin responded in kind, and when the _batchall was done, both warriors powered up their Mechs and took their chosen positions._

Margaidh waited for what seemed an age before either Mech made any action at all. It was Uvin Buhallin that broke the deadlock, suddenly running for a closer position and firing two flights of missiles at once. Some flew wide but the rest peppered the surface of Domask Lewis' _Mad Dog.Lewis responded with both his large pulse lasers, but Buhallin was running fast, and Lewis missed. Margaidh screwed her eyes tight shut, not daring to watch._

When she opened her eyes again, Buhallin's Mech had taken cover behind a low hill and only it's upper torso and head was showing. Lewis closed the distance and fired his lasers again. This time he got a hit, and armour sizzled from the left shoulder of Buhallin's Mech.

_Way to go, Domask! Margaidh thought to herself. __Get him in the head next time!_

But Domask had put himself in an exposed position and Buhallin responded by firing both his large lasers and a single flight of LRMs. Again the missiles peppered at Lewis' mech's armour but the lasers all homed in on the _Mad Dog's left arm, stripping armour away and eating into internal circuitry. Sparks flew and Margaidh could smell burning alloy._

Undeterred, Domask Lewis ran his Mech round the hill to meet Buhallin head to head, and then both combatants were partially hidden from Margaidh's view.She saw flashes of laser fire, and fragments of armour flying, but with both Mechs moving so quickly around one another, she could no longer tell who was winning, or even which Mech was which.

When the two _Mad Dogs emerged into view again, Margaidh could see that one Mech had lost it's left arm entirely, and was now down to just one each of large and medium pulse lasers. That had to be Lewis, she thought, her heart pounding hard._

Buhallin's mech seemed to have suffered only armour damage but that was extensive, particularly over the vulnerable centre torso area. One thing Margaidh had noticed was that the _Mad Dog was not particularly well armoured.Which was to say, it was as well armoured as an Inner Sphere Mech of the same size, but light by Clan standards._

It seemed to Margaidh that Uvin Buhallin had the upper hand, and was pounding Lewis relentlessly with his four lasers. Lewis responded with his two remaining lasers and both missile packs, but again Margaidh could not see any significant structural damage to Buhallin's Mech. She bit her bottom lip, and silently prayed for the Wolf.

Abruptly, both Mechs seemed to come to a stop, and for a moment Margaidh was afraid that Lewis' _Mad Dog was about to topple over. Then she saw telltale signs of smoke curling from breaches in the armour of Buhallin's Mech. __Now, Domask! Margaidh hissed under her breath. __He's overheated!_

But Domask Lewis did not fire. His Mech's one remaining arm twitched alarmingly as it's actuators shorted out, and Buhallin took the opportunity to fire everything he had at Domask's Mech. Two large lasers, two medium lasers and forty missiles streaked towards the Wolf Clan warrior.

Margaidh shut her eyes again and waited for the explosion. She did not see Domask, with lightning reactions, drop his Mech to it's knees, allowing the lasers to pass harmlessly over it's head.She did not see the missiles impacting with the frozen ground. She did not see Uvin Buhallin hurriedly ejecting from his Mech when he realised his barrage of weapons fire had dangerously overheated it. She opened her eyes just in time to see Buhallin's mech ripped apart from the inside as the remaining missile ammunition spontaneously exploded as the heat became unbearable.

As the smoke and flame cleared, Buhallin emerged from his escape capsue and kicked angrily at the ground. Domask ignored him, and marched his Mech across the expanse of the arena, straight to where Margaidh was watching. He popped the canopy and climbed out, his face covered with sweat, and stood proudly before Margaidh.

"I am Star Commander Domask Lewis, and I claim victory in this Trial of Possession," he announced, his voice powerful and authoritative, albeit a little shaky as he recovered from the exertion of battle. "You are now Margaidh of Clan Wolf, and you are bonded to me."

Domask Lewis slipped a knife from his belt and used it to cut through the bondcord around Margaidh's wrist. Margaidh caught a glimpse of the hilt that was of silver, and ornately shaped in the form of a wolf, with red gemstones for eyes. Domask replaced the cord with one of his own; it's warm colours of red, gold and russet brown in contrast to the cold greens and blues in the cord of the Jade Falcons. This cord he picked up and he strode up to Uvin Buhallin with it. With a smirk on his face, he dropped the bondcord at Buhallin's feet and trod it into the ground.


	3. 20 June 3050

_In-System, Verthandi (FRR)  
Wolf Clan Occupation Zone  
Aboard the Drop Ship '__Lion's Heart_'  
20th June 3050  


Margaidh was surprised when she was shown her quarters aboard the Drop Ship. Instead of a cell, she was given a proper room, and the door was left unlocked. Her Jade Falcon clothes were taken away and replaced with Wolf ones, but she noticed the same badge on the jacket's arm identifying her as a member of the lowly Labourer's caste. For a while she sat alone on the bunk, fingering the woven bracelet around her wrist and wondering just what she'd gotten herself into this time.

A light tapping on the door disturbed Margaidh's thoughts and she opened it to find Domask Lewis standing there. He was casually dressed, but still wore the jacket with the Summer badge on it. "I am going to the mess-hall for lunch," he said. "I would like you to accompany me." His request was politely targeted mid-way between a request and an order. Margaidh guessed that while he would not force her to go, it would not look good if she refused.

So she agreed, though with a considerable amout of trepidation, and some time later she found herself enjoying a meal aboard the Clan Jumpship. Because she did not recognise many of the items on the menu she trusted to Domask's judgement and let him order for her. He chose a dish called "Carril" which came served with something resembling rice and Margaidh at first thought was some kind of curry, but which was mild and sweet. It was flavoured with unfamiliar spices that kindled her appetite, and knocked spots of the Jade Falcon's prison soup.

"You like that, quiaff?" the Clan warrior asked.

Margaidh nodded. "It's delicious," she replied. To her surprise, Domask's expression turned suddenly shocked and angry, as if she had uttered an obscenity. She felt herself blush. "Did I say something wrong?" she asked.

"Aff," Domask replied in a hushed voice. "You use contractions in your speech. That is offensive to us."

"Oh. I... I apologise," Margaidh said, forcing herself not to say I'm sorry. "I will try not to."

"Our language is one of the greatest gifts we have inherited from the Star League," said Domask. "To use a contraction is considered an insult to the language itself, and therefore an insult also to the Star League. I reccommend that you concentrate hard, and try your best not to use contractions when speaking to us. However, I am glad you find your food pleasant."

Margaidh smiled. "I have another question about language," she said. "What are those words quiaff and quineg, that you sometimes put at the end of questions?"

"When we expect an affirmative answer, we say quiaff, and quineg when we expect a negative answer. The proper response is either Aff, or Neg."

Margaidh nodded. It was clear from the old-fashioned nature of Clan speech that Star League language was revered, but evidently in the past three hundred years the language had evolved on its own path and new words had been invented, to express concepts the Clans had developed in their isolation.

"It is going to be difficult to adjust to your customs, I think," Margaidh replied, picking at her food. "When I was with Clan Jade Falcon I was treated like a prisoner, and here I am treated more like a guest. Yet I fail to understand the difference between my position with the Falcons and with Clan Wolf."

Domask gently laid down his fork. "The Falcon and the Wolf are quite different creatures," he explained. "Most Wolf Clan warriors are of a persuasion known as Warden, while the Falcons are Crusaders." He paused, and saw Margaidh's confused frown. "The Crusaders believe in taking over the Inner Sphere by force, and re-establishing the Star League as quickly as possible. The Wardens, however, appreciate that the Inner Sphere is not yet ready, and favour a slower progression. The Wardens wish to protect the Inner Sphere from its own destruction, so that they too might regain the prosperity it once knew, and share in the glory of the Star League. Except within Clan Wolf, the Crusaders dominate among the Clans that now have a presence in the Inner Sphere."

Margaidh studied Domask's deep brown eyes. "Which one are you?" she asked quietly.

"I am a Warden."

"But I am still a prisoner, here... quiaff?" 

"Neg," Domask replied hastily. "You are my bondsman, but the bonds are of honour, not chains. The only thing that binds you to me is the cord you wear around your wrist, and whatever code of honour you follow."

"But... I still cannot leave here, can I?"

"That would be dishonourable." Domask paused. "Do you wish to leave?"

At first, the word "yes" hovered on the tip of Margaidh's tongue, but she held it back. Margaidh had no wish to be a prisoner, no matter what her bonds were made of. And she wished for nothing more than to return to Summer, see her mother once more, and put this dreadful nightmare behind her. On the other hand, she did not wish to be considered dishonourable. She had the suspicion that those 'guests' who refused to comply were treated more like prisoners and less like guests, just as Margaidh had been treated by the Falcons. She suspected that the Wolves were equally capable of the same ruthlessness.

And yet something about Domask Lewis fascinated her. He was a Star Commander, and a Star was the Clan's equivalent of a lance, which meant that Lewis was not really much above Margaidh's own rank. She figured his age at maybe thirty-five or so, so he clearly had a good dozen or so years more military experience on her, however. And despite the fact that she was his bondsman, just as she had been Buhallin's, Domask had so far shown her only respect.

"I do not know," she said quietly. "I feel as though my answer should be yes, but it is not. And I cannot explain why."

"You miss your home, quiaff?"

Margaidh nodded. "I miss Summer, I miss my mother, and I miss my _Blue Skye_," she replied. "Not necessarily in that order."

Domask frowned briefly, but then smiled. "Maybe one day you will be able to return to Summer," he said kindly. "It has always been my hope also to see the world that birthed my forefathers."

Margaidh smiled. _If I ever do go back, I promise to take you with me_. She kept the thought to herself, not really believing the dream would ever come true. "There's one more thing," she said. "How is it that I am not allowed to call myself 'Lewis', but you are?"

"Hmmm..." Domask narrowed his eyes and looked at a far distant point, deep in concentration. "In order to explain that, I will have to tell you something of our history." He took a deep breath and began to speak, and it was as though he was telling a very well-known and well-rehearsed story.

"When General Aleksandr Kerensky led the Exodus, he took with him eight hundred of the Star League's finest warriors, along with their families. Twenty-one months later, on the 24th August 2786, Kerensky's warships arrived at the five foundation worlds which were to become our home. They were named Arcadia, Babylon, Circe, Dagda and Eden. But over the first few years of colonisation, there was unrest as the followers of Kerensky were unable to put aside their old political differences, and there was war as bloody as any the Inner Sphere has seen. General Kerensky died during the war and his son Nicholas refused to play any part in the squabbling. So he led his own exodus, to the cluster world of Strana Mechty. There he and his supporters waited until the war on the Pentagon worlds had burnt itself out.

"When Nicholas Kerensky returned, he brought with him ideas that formed the birth of the Clans. The original eight hundred warriors were divided into twenty Clans of forty each, and Nicholas Kerensky named them after animals native to their new home that had qualities he admired. The new order stressed that each Clan was a family, thus old political ties were broken. Progress was based entirely on merit, with frequent testing to ensure only the best warriors could progress to high ranks.

"Nicholas banned the use of surnames because he felt it kept alive the old corruption of the Inner Sphere. Only the original eight hundred warriors were allowed to keep their surnames, and they have become the basis for the Bloodnames. But a descendant of one of these eight hundred may not automatically use that name. There are only twenty-five living warriors at any time with one particular Bloodname. When a Bloodnamed Warrior dies, a Trial of Bloodright is held amongst those warriors who have the correct Bloodheritage. Only the winner of that trial may claim the Bloodname."

Margaidh listened patiently, then for a while, she sat deep in thought. "So... one day I might get the chance to enter a Trial of Bloodright, so I could be called Lewis again?"

Domask sighed. "Theoretically, it is possible. But you would first have to pass a Trial of Position to become a warrior, and then you would have to beat all comers for the Bloodname. As you are freeborn from the Inner Sphere, without the advantage of a Clan upbringing..." Domask paused. "...it would be unlikely that you could succeed."

Suddenly angry, Margaidh slammed her hands down on the table, rising to her feet in the same action. "Bullshit!" she exclaimed, causing heads around the mess-hall to turn in her direction. She ignored them all. "I'm a Lewis, and you know it. Whether I can use the name or not, Lewis blood runs in my veins and no-one can take that from me."

Domask did not slap her as Uvin Buhallin had done. Instead, he just looked at her, a calm, almost indifferent expression on his face. He waited until Margaidh's anger had dissipated and she sat down again with a growl of frustration. Picking a fight was no fun if the opponent refused to rise to the bait.

Margaidh pointed a forefinger at him, waving it as a mother might wave her own at a disobedient child. "I will not rest until I am recognised as a Lewis again," she said, her voice low. "Whatever it takes, I will do it, with or without your help. But I _will_ do it, and I _will_ win my name back."

Domask maintained his expression of indifference. It served to hide the kernel of admiration he was starting to have for this firey Scot, and it concealed the feeling he had that one day, however far ahead that day might be, she would get what she wanted.

  
  
_In-System, Verthandi (FRR)  
Wolf Clan Occupation Zone  
Aboard the Drop Ship '__Lion's Heart_'  
22nd June 3050  


Star Commander Vincent stalked the corridors of the drop ship like a carnivorous beast searching for its prey. His cool grey eyes flickered left and right at every intersection, and when he had satisfied himself that the prey he sought was not there, he moved on. He was very selective in his choice of prey. Only one particular specimen would do. It was a quiet animal, his chosen prey, and one that masqueraded as being a predator itself. But its teeth and claws were not sharp, and it posed no threat to Vincent, who was an accomplished hunter.

Scowling, Vincent stopped, his attention fixed on the back of the man walking along a side-corridor away from the intersection where he stood. He recognised the man's shape and dark hair, and the way he carried himself. Here was his prey, and it was ripe for the catching.

"Lewis!"

Domask Lewis whirled round and when he saw Vincent, his hands clenched into tight fists.

Vincent gave a pleasant smile, which was belied by the look of hate in his eyes. "Greetings, my friend. I trust you are well, quiaff?"

"This is no social call, Vincent. What do you want?" Domask's dark eyes narrowed at the taller, blond-haired man.

"I understand you have a bondsman, Domask. I am offended that you never told me."

"My apologies, Vincent. It slipped my mind." Lewis' tone of voice was not an apologetic one. "Her name is Margaidh."

Vicker's raised his eyebrows. He'd automatically assumed the bondsman would be just that; a man. Things were looking up. He put an arm on Lewis' shoulders in a friendly gesture. "Margaidh, you say. I fail to understand why you bother with her name. I generally find Freebirther is more than adequate."

"Perhaps that is the reason your last and only bondsman made an attempt on your life," Lewis said, knowing the reminder would rile his adversary. "As I recall, he would have succeeded, had the rest of your star not intervened and shot him dead."

Vincent scowled. "Do not be too gentle with your bondsman, Lewis. Remember, every surat needs a kick now and again, to remind it that it is of an inferior species." He laughed, and patted Lewis on the back before turning and striding away, leaving Lewis glaring angrily after him.

_I would not advise you to kick surats too often, friend Vincent. One day you may find they are smarter than you are._

  
  
_Zenith Jump Point, Stellar NC2865 (FRR)  
Wolf Clan Occupation Zone  
Aboard the Drop Ship '__Lion's Heart_'  
26th June 3050  


There was a brief moment in which Margaidh felt as though she was being pulled inside out, as the jumpship carrying the _Lion's Heart_ made the jump to an uninhabited system twenty-six light-years from Verthandi. The star was a small, young one, surrounded only by clouds of dust and a single small, airless world. Neither planet nor star held any interest whatsoever, except for the fact that the Jump-Ship could recharge its drives. Margaidh learned that the ship had sizeable batteries and would be capable of making two jumps one directly after the other, but the 328th Assault Cluster seemed to be in no hurry to get wherever it was going. They had a schedule, and that schedule allowed for eight days reharge at this anonymous star.

Margaidh was glad of the break. As she recovered from the hyperspace jump she wondered if her stomach could survive two at once.

During the past five days Margaidh had spent most of her time with Techs, working on the Cluster's peculiar Mechs. As first she wondered that an effective prisoner of what was basically an enemy force, would be permitted to even see Clan technology, but it soon became clear to Margaidh that she was now considered to belong to Clan Wolf as much as anyone who had been born as such. She was occasionally tagged with the derisory 'Freebirther' epithet, and she spent much of her time fetching-and-carrying for the more highly skilled technicians, but Margaidh became aware that her status was of at worst, a junior-grade employee.

She quickly learned, however, that it was wise to carry out her orders without protest. Even though Domask Lewis treated her well, other warriors were not above giving her a slap if they thought she was not submissive enough, and if Domask was not looking.

Margaidh was set to work most frequently on the Mechs assigned to Domask Lewis. Usually this was his favourite _Timber Wolf_, a mech that looked something like a cross between a _Catapult_ and a _Marauder_ and nicknamed _Mad Cat_ by the Inner Sphere. But it transpired that if the situation demanded it, he could easily transfer to any other Mech that was more suited to the task in hand.

She also discovered that each Mech could easily be modified to suit various roles by swapping weapons and other equipment in and out of the Mech as the pilot required. These easily adaptible Mechs were called Omni-Mechs, and although there were often two or three preferred configurations for each one, pilots were free to change them as they wished. There were other Mechs that were not so easily adaptible; some were upgraded versions of old Star League designs and some were designs Margaidh had never heard of, but generally these non-Omni-Mechs were considered inferior and reserved for second-line units and second-rate warriors.

Margaidh soon discovered that the Mechs were being prepared for an imminent invasion, and when she found out that their destination was Ridderkerk, a planet in the Federated Commonwealth near the Rasalhague border, her stomach turned back-flip. The memories of death on Barcelona came flooding back and for a moment she thought she might faint. Then, suddenly throwing her tools down to the floor she ran out of the repair bay into the ship's labyrinthine corridors, tears streaming down her face. She did not stop until she bumped into someone, and carreened into the bulkhead.

"Hey, steady on there," said a voice as strong hands grasped her firmly but gently on the shoulders. "Are you unwell?"

Margaidh shook her head, but it was still a long two or three minutes before she was able to speak again. She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at the person who had halted her run. He was young, probably still in his late teens, and he was half a head shorter than Margaidh, but he was strong, well-built and athletic. She noticed that his curly hair was plastered with sweat, as if he'd been working-out, and a long, thin braid of hair from the nape of his neck trailed over his right shoulder like a serpent.

"I'm... I am sorry," Margaidh panted, correcting her use of contractions. "I didn't... did not mean to bump into you."

The youth frowned at her, glancing briefly at the bondcord on her wrist. "You are a new bondsman, quiaff? From the Inner Sphere?" Margaidh nodded. "What is your name?"

"M...Margaidh," she stammered, biting back the urge to add 'Lewis.'

"I am Michael," the youth replied, holding out his hand rather formally, for her to shake. "You seemed upset," he added. "Is there something wrong?"

Margaidh shook her head, not wanting to share her concerns with a stranger. She did not want to be seen harbouring loyalties towards the people the Wolf Clan were about to attack. But she could not contain her emotions and once again they surfaced in a torrent of sobbing she could not control. Michael touched her gingerly, trying to comfort her, then he took her in a gentle embrace and held her until she stopped crying once more. When she did, he gently steered her to a quiet canteen, where a small knot of young people were sitting around a table chatting. Some of them turned round to look at Michael, waved at him. He waved back but he did not join them. Instead, he steered Margaidh to a table in a corner, where they could talk, and he ordered two cups of something that smelled and looked suspiciously like black coffee.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Margaidh asked at length.

Michael frowned. "Is there a reason for me to be nasty?"

"My people and yours are enemies. I just found out that the 328th is going to attack a planet in the Federated Commonwealth. How can you people be so nice to me, and then calmly go out and kill my compatriots?"

Michael frowned. "I do not understand. Do you wish us to treat you more harshly?"

"I'd prefer you to stop killing people," Margaidh retorted, feeling angry now. But it was an anger directed mostly at herself. "I've only been with Clan Wolf a week, and I've made no attempt to resist. Och, I even think I like it here. Now I feel like I've become a traitor." In her heightened emotional state she forgot not to use contractions, but Michael gave no indication of having noticed.

"You are not betraying your people by allying with us," Michael said. "We represent mankind's best hope for the future. Do your people not dream of a return to the peace and prosperity of the Star League?"

"Aye," Margaidh replied. "But we kind of thought we wouldnae have to die for it."

"And how many deaths have there been in the Inner Sphere already, in numberless attempts of the Successor Houses to reform the Star League themselves?" Michael answered Margaidh's question with one of his own. "We bring fewer deaths, not more."

"Try telling that to the families of the Seventeenth Skye Rangers. Or the thousands of other families left behind, who won't ever see their sons or daughters again." Margaidh suddenly thought of her mother alone at home, thinking Margaidh had died on Barcelona. She took a long drink of coffee and sighed. "I am sorry, Michael," she said. "There is no reason for me to take my anger out on you. I should get back to work."

"Perhaps we could meet up again when you are off-duty," Michael said. "When you are a little more cheerful."

Margaidh forced a smile, and nodded. Michael walked with her back to the repair bays and as he left he gave her a kiss on the cheek. The other Techs looked at her with grinning faces, making her flush crimson. It seemed they suspected she was starting a romance already and yet they appeared to respect her all the more for it. Margaidh set to work without a word, mostly to hide her red face, and she wondered if she would ever understand the Clans.

********

"Excuse me, Star Commander Lewis?"

Domask turned round, and frowned at the short youth standing patiently to attention. "I do not recognise you."

"I am one of the cadets from Sibko 32. My name is Michael."

"Ah." Domask nodded, remembering there were cadets aboard, undergoing training with the Command Nova. "How may I help you, Michael?"

Michael fought back a sudden wave of unexpected fear. He had not expected such a simple request to be so difficult to ask. "I met your bondsman, ah, Margaidh, earlier today. I would like to see her again, and I thought it appropriate to ask your permission first. Sir."

A broad smile broke across Domask Lewis' face. _So that explains why the lad is shuffling from one foot to another like the floor is hot._

"So long as your... socialising... interferes with neither Margaidh's duties nor your training, I have no objection."

Michael smiled equally broadly, thanked Lewis, and hurried away, his braid swinging in time with his footsteps.

  
  
_Zenith Jump Point, Stellar NC2865 (FRR)  
Wolf Clan Occupation Zone  
Aboard the Drop Ship '_Lion's Heart_'  
27th June 3050_  


Michael made a point of passing by the repair bays at just the moment Margaidh went off duty, and asked her if she wanted to work out in the gym for an hour. Despite the face that she was already feeling tired from a long day fixing Mechs, she agreed. 

The gymnasium was not large but was relatively well-equipped, with exercise machines as well as a wall full of weapon-racks containing an assortment of melee weapons. Margaidh's eyes fell upon a pair of two-metre long wooden staves, and, smiling, she picked them both up, and tossed one to Michael. He nodded, kicked off his shoes and stepped onto the practise mat and Margaidh did likewise, turning the smooth staff in her hands to test its weight and balance.

Like a pair of panthers, Margaidh and Michael circled one another, eyes locked, the staves held horizontally, poised for action. Margaidh worried briefly that neither of them were wearing protective clothing. _I'll just have to make sure he doesn't hit me_. But Michael took advantage of that momentary lapse of concentration to launch his attack.

Margaidh dodged his first swing only just in time, and parried the second with the centre of her staff held high as Michael's came down towards her head. Then she countered with two sharp jabs aimed at Michael's ribs, first with one end of the staff then the other. Michael blocked each one. He danced around her with a speed belied by his bulk, and before Margaidh had time to react, she felt a blow to her back that knocked her, winded, to the floor.

"Point," said Michael, stepping back to wait for her to stand again. She did so slowly, watching him with a cautious eye, but he did not resume combat position until she nodded readiness.

"How many points to win the match?" Margaidh asked, as soon as she had enough breath to speak.

"As many as you can take," he replied. "We fight until one of us yields."

_I might have known. _

Again the pair circled slowly around the mat, and again Michael was first to attack, but this time Margaidh was ready for him. She blocked his low swing with a counterblow that lifted his staff up above his shoulder, and closing low Margaidh struck towards his now exposed midriff. But he was quick, and nimbly side-stepped out of the way, extending the distance between them once more.

Margaidh closed again, and now a volley of attacks, parries and counter-attacks came so fast an onlooker might have thought he was watching a fencing match. Margaidh took advantage of a brief opening in Michael's defense to tap him firmly in the midriff with the end of the staff.

"Point," she said with a smile, lowering the staff and stepping back. Michael nodded, sweat gleaming on his forehead.

The pair each won one more point. Michael tripped Margaidh with a blow to the shin that she should have seen coming, but didn't. Then Margaidh caught Michael in the ribs with a blow that was harder than she intended, as he mis-judged his dodge and met her staff halfway. The final rally was long and defensive, neither wanting to let the other take an advantage, but Margaidh was beginning to flag and a momentary lapse of pace found her at the receiving end of a blow to her left arm that made her cry out with pain and let her staff go flying to the floor.

"Point," said Michael, smiling broadly.

"Game," said Margaidh, rubbing her upper arm where an ugly red mark was already starting to form. "I've had enough."

"You did well," Michael said, picking up Margaidh's staff and replacing them both on the rack. "I rarely lose two points out of five."

"Bo staff," Margaidh replied. "Since I was fourteen." 

While they rested they chatted at length, and this time Michael talked more about himself. He was seventeen years old, he told her, and was training to be a Mechwarrior. He, along with a half-dozen others from his Sibko had been assigned to observe the 328th Assault Cluster during their invasions in order to learn military strategy.

"What is a Sibko?" Margaidh asked with a frown.

"It is a group of people who are raised together, some sharing the same genetic parents, who grow up and train together in the hope of becoming warriors."

"Kind of like a family?" Margaidh asked. "Brothers and sisters?" Michael nodded. "How many of you are there?"

"There were a hundred of us to start with. There are forty-one left."

Margaidh stared at him. She could not decide whether to remark on the size of Michael's family, or ask what happened to the other fifty-nine. She wondered too how his parents found the time to have a hundred children.

Michael sensed her confusion and smiled. "The others failed the tests at some stage or other and went on to other castes. Some will become Technicians, or Merchants or Scientists maybe. Only twelve have died so far."

"I feel sorry for your parents," Margaidh replied curtly, resuming her exercises.

"I have never met them," Michael replied. "I am from the Eugenics programme."

"What is that?" Margaidh asked. "Does that mean you are Trueborn?" she continued, thinking of the contrast with the Freeborn who had what Margaidh would consider a normal family life.

"Aff," Michael replied. "It is a programme of genetic engineering which produces warriors who are superior to Freeborn ones."

"Apparently not always, if fifty-nine have failed and twelve have died," Margaidh replied.

"Our standards are exceptionally high," Michael replied.

"How did the twelve die?" Margaidh asked, thinking that a twelve percent casualty rate was rather high for military academy."

"In training exercises, mostly." Michael paused. "Though one was killed in a fight with someone from another Sibko, and another died of a tropical fever." He spoke as though he were telling Margaidh about something that had happened to someone he never knew. There was no trace of remorse.

"Does it not upset you, that some of your brothers and sisters have been killed?"

"I was upset at the time, of course. We are not emotionless monsters. But when someone from the Eugenics programme dies in training, it is because they are not strong enough to become warriors. Their genes will not be allowed to join the gene pool, so weaknesses are not carried over into the next generation."

Margaidh nodded slowly. Rather like the law of survival of the fittest, The Clans weeded out the inferior members of society, and made sure that only the best warriors were permitted to breed. Clever, but cruel, Margaidh thought. No wonder the term 'Freebirther' was such an insult.

"What was your Sibko like?" Michael asked, after a pause.

"My Sibko? You mean my family?"

Michael nodded.

"There was only me and my mother," Margaidh said, wiping sweat from her face with her sleeve. "I had no brothers or sisters, and I never knew my father."

"That must have been very lonely, quiaff?"

"No, I mean, neg. I went to school, and then to the military academy on Skye, where I was trained to be a mechwarrior. I had lots of friends my own age. We just didn't live together."

Michael looked quizzically at her. "What is your mother like?"

"Like me, in a lot of ways. We are both stubborn and determined, but she is more serious-minded than I am." Margaidh rubbed at her face and hair with a towel.

"Does she look like you?"

Margaidh shook her head. "She always said I looked like my father, though she refused to tell me who he was. My mother has dark hair and she is much shorter than I am."

"Is she a warrior?"

"Neg," Margaidh replied, surprising herself with the speed at which she had delivered the proper Clan response. "She was once, but not anymore." Margaidh turned her head and rubbed again at her hair with the rough towel, harder this time, making it clear to Michael that she did not wish to talk about her mother.

  
  
_Curitiba, Summer  
Federated Commonwealth  
27th June 3050_  
  
**COM STAR FACILITY HPG-26-3J9MESSAGE ID:414-500402  
MESSAGE FROM:** Hauptman-General Frances Bissell  
Chahar Province Operational Headquarters  
BlackJack  
**DATE TRANSMITTED:** 2nd April 3050  
**MESSAGE TO:** Ms. Eleanor Lewis  
Curitiba, Summer  
**MESSAGE READS:** I regret to inform you that Leftenant Margaidh Lewis of the Seventeenth Skye Rangers is presently considered missing, presumed dead.  
  


**********

  
  
**COM STAR FACILITY HPG-26-3J9MESSAGE ID:3021-500509  
MESSAGE FROM:** Hauptman-General Frances Bissell  
Chahar Province Operational Headquarters  
BlackJack  
**DATE TRANSMITTED:** 9th May 3050  
**MESSAGE TO:** Ms. Eleanor Lewis  
Curitiba, Summer  
**MESSAGE READS:** Thankyou for your communication. Unfortunately the information I have available is very limited, since we have received no communication from Barcelona since the original Mayday and request for assistance. Regrettably, once assistance was able to reach Barcelona, the Seventeenth Skye Rangers were no longer present.

In answer to your second question; No, we have not been able to locate your daughter's body, nor the specific Battlemech to which you referred. However it should be remembered that damage was severe, and very few of the bodies so far recovered have so far been positively identified.

I am very sorry that I have not been able to find out more, but as you can appreciate, things have been very difficult as late. I can promise that if any further information regarding your daughter's fate comes to light, I shall inform you immediately.

Yours sincerely,

Hauptmann-General Frances Bissell

  


**********

  
  
**COM STAR FACILITY HPG-26-3D1MESSAGE ID:101-500702  
MESSAGE FROM:** Precentor Chahar  
ComStar  
**DATE TRANSMITTED:** 27th June 3050  
**MESSAGE TO:** Ms. Eleanor Lewis  
Curitiba, Summer  
**MESSAGE READS: ** Regret your message 427-500619 not delivered. The Chahar Province Operational Headquarters is no longer operating from BlackJack.  
  


**********

  
  
Eleanor Lewis stared at the last message from Com Star. She read it five times before the tears obscured her vision and blurred the words, then with a scream of rage and frustration she screwed the paper into a tight ball and flung it across the room.

When she arrived late at Curitiba University, Pat Finlay gave her a quizzical look. He was on the verge of chastising her for lack of punctuality, but when he saw her eyes red and make-up running, he softened, and smiled at her. "Are you alright?" he asked, falling into step beside her wheelchair as she propelled herself towards lecture hall six.

Eleanor nodded, but Finlay did not believe her. He guessed there had been some news about her daughter, and judging from Eleanor's tear-stained face, the news was not good. "Listen, Eleanor, why don't you take a few days off?" he suggested. "I'll take your classes. Take as much time as you need."

Eleanor stopped wheeling and looked up at him with a faint smile. "It's alright, Pat, honestly it is. There's no news about Margaidh, if that's what you're thinking."

"Well, how about you go to the refectory and get a strong black coffee? I'll join you if you like." Pat put a hand on her shoulder.

"I have a class at ten," Eleanor said. "I don't want to keep the students waiting. You know how much they love Political History," she added with a touch of sarcasm.

"I already asked Dierdre Sheehan to take your morning class. When you didn't show up on time, I figured something was wrong."

That was typical of Pat Finlay. He was the sort who planned everything meticulously, and didn't like his routines changing. The advantage was, he had contingency plans for almost every eventuality.

"No news is good news, as they say," said Pat Finlay when they had settled down in the refectory with large mugs of steaming coffee.

Eleanor nodded, but in this case she did not believe the sentiment. She had heard a number of reports from the front line of the Clan Invasions, and the scale of it was so massive and so destructive, she did not dare to hope that Margaidh was still alive.

"The last thing I heard was that the Seventeenth Skye are now considered officially non-existant," Eleanor said, her voice shaking.

"But that doesn't mean everyone is dead," Finlay replied, trying to sound optimistic. "You said yourself you found out there was a dropship missing. Maybe some of them managed to escape."

"Escape to where?" Eleanor said, looking back at Finlay. "The Clans have already taken dozens of worlds in Commonwealth and Kurita space. There is nowhere they could go that would have been any safer."

Finlay did not respond. He knew in his heart of hearts that Eleanor was right, and he could think of nothing to say that would cheer his colleague. He stared at the surface of his coffee reflecting the lights from the ceiling, and decided they looked like stars sining in the blackness of night. How far was it going to go? How many worlds would fall to the invaders? Where would it all end? The only answers Finlay could find for those questions were bleak ones.

  
  
_In-System, Ridderkerk  
Federated Commonwealth  
Aboard the Jump-Ship 'Lion's Pride'  
3rd July 3050_  


Margaidh loaded the _Timber Wolf_ into the drop-ship, and watched Domask go round it, meticulously checking every system. For a brief moment she hoped he would find someting wrong, and in the hold-up he would miss the drop to the planet below. As she said goodbye to him, she felt a sudden pain inside that she did not recognise at first. Only later, after the drop-ship had launched, did she recognise the feeling as fear for the safety of Domask Lewis, and the hope that he would return unharmed.

She spent the next hour pacing up and down the length of her cabin, her imagination racing. First she imagined the Clan warriors being overwhelmed by the First Lyran Regulars that defended Ridderkerk. The Regulars were a strong unit, and Margaidh knew they could potentially inflict heavy casualties on the invaders. Then she remembered the carnage on Barcelona and Black Earth, and decided that the superior Clan Wolf technology would tear through the Regulars like brushfire. 

Neither possibility sat comfortably on Margaidh's shoulders. She could not bear to consider the deaths of Commonwealth warriors, particularly when it could so easily have been herself lying lifeless on a far distant world. And yet the thought that Domask Lewis might not make it back either filled her with dread.

Unable to bear the suspense a moment longer, Margaidh went in search of Michael, and she found him in the Communications Room, on a viewing gantry above what was the most remarkable sight Margaidh had ever seen. On the floor of the room, some two metres below her, was a holographic display of the planet's surface, with Mech units moving about like little toys on it. In the far corner of the room she could see the edge of the city represented by miniature holographic buildings. To Margaidh, it seemed as though she was watching the unfolding of the invasion of the battle from the air.

Margaidh stood beside Michael, but his attention was fixed on the scene below. "Is there any news from Charlie Assault?" she whispered to him.

"Perfect touchdown twenty kilometres south-west of the city," he whispered back pointing at a group of holographic Mechs, no more than five centimetres tall, at the far side of the vast room.

Michael's eyes met Margaidh's own and he tried to read them, to find out what she was thinking. But they revealed nothing.

Before the sun set over Ridderkerk's western horizon, it was all over. The 328th had marched unopposed into the capital, finding no trace of opposition. Only later did they find the First Lyran Regulars scattered in the countryside around Canton Downs, in a state of disarray. To their credit, the Regulars put up a brave fight, but their losses were heavy and by the end of the day the survivors had surrendered to Clan Wolf. The First Lyran Regulars had ceased to exist.

  
  
_Vesinur, Ridderkerk  
Wolf Clan Occupation Zone  
4th July 3050_  


Margaidh stepped out of the dropship at the spaceport just outside the capital, and blinked at the sudden bright sunlight. She took a deep breath of the fresh air, and smelled the sea just a few miles away. Techs, labourers and support crew began unloading supplies and taking them to what used to be the headquarters of the First Lyran Regulars. Margaidh helped them, until a familiar voice greeted her from behind.

Margaidh whirled around. "Domask!" She held back the urge to give him a great big hug, but she could not conceal the grin of delight on her face. Domask Lewis, however, looked less than happy. She let her smile fade. "Is everything alright?"

Domask opened his mouth to say 'Aff', then changed his mind. "Neg," he replied. "I have just learned the reason for our swift victory here, and the news is... disappointing." He fell into step with Margaidh, as she resumed carrying boxes into the back of a cargo truck. "The commander of the Lyran Regulars was injured in an accident eight days ago," Domask continued. "He is currently lying in a coma in the Maria Kelswa Memorial Hospital. His second was inexperienced in command, and was unable to control his troops efficiently. This news gives our victory little value."

Domask sighed. "And that is not the only bad news I have received this morning. I have just discovered that the Trinary Assault and Binary Rogue have been bid out of the next assault on Svarstaad. We have been ordered to remain here until we are sent for."

Margaidh saw the anger in his eyes. Whatever his comment about being 'bid out' meant, it was clearly an insult to him. She supposed that if she were in Domask's position, she would be equally unhappy at being left out of the action.

She gave a sigh that was half a pant, as she struggled with a particularly heavy box. She could think of nothing to say that might be a comfort to Domask Lewis, and she decided that the best thing to do was to leave him to resolve his feelings on the matter on his own. As she watched him striding purposefully back towards the administration block, she wished she could understand him better.

**********

After finishing the loading and unloading of supplies, Margaidh went in search of her room, on the third floor of the accommodation block. It was not as well-appointed as her room aboard the Drop-Ship, but it had a window that let in the morning sun and had a good view across the city. She could see though, that the city was actually quite small, and beyond it she could see the silver sea shining in the distance.

There were two bunks that looked as though they had recently been slept in, and a largeish cupboard that still contained the belongings of whoever the room had previously belonged to. Margaidh looked at the Lyran uniforms, and saw the names of Private First Class P.A. Jones, and Corporal K.L. Hollingwood. There were cooling vests too; the occupants had clearly also been Mechwarriors.

Beside the cupboard was a desk that contained an untidy mess of writing materials and maps and in the drawer beneath it was an assortment of toiletries, hairbrushes and make-up. A second drawer contained underwear; mostly of the practical sort but one or two pieces more lacy and feminine. So Jones and Hollingwood were girls, or else they were very strange, thought Margaidh to herself. She wondered what had become of them.

There was a knock at the door and Margaidh slammed the drawer shut, embarrassed at being caught searching trough someone else's private property. But when she opened the door she saw Michael, and invited him in.

"You are staying too, quiaff?" Margaidh asked.

"Neg," replied Michael with a shake of his head. "I have been assigned to the Command Nova, and we leave in six hours. I only came to say goodbye."

Margaidh's spirits sank and she slumped onto the lowest bunk. Michael sat beside her, and put his arm around her shoulder. "You have been the closest thing I have to a friend, Michael," she said quietly. "I will miss you."

Michael did not say anything. Instead, he expressed his feelings by giving Margaidh a kiss. Not a quick peck like he had done before, but a kiss of passion and tenderness that lingered long on Margaidh's lips. She embraced him tightly and returned the tenderness, but pulled away when she felt Michael starting to unfasten the buttons on her shirt.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed, pulling away from him, suddenly angry.

"I wish to make love to you," Michael replied. "You said we were friends." He paused, and sensing that he had upset Margaidh, his face flushed red. "I am sorry if I insulted you. I did not realise that lovemaking was offensive to the people of the Inner Sphere."

Margaidh's anger vanished in a trace as she realised Michael's mistake. Evidently making love was, to the Clans, an expression of friendship. "I am sorry, Michael. Lovemaking is not offensive to us. But it is something we take very seriously. It is supposed to be a recognition of commitment between two people, to the exclusion of all others."

Michael frowned. "Then, you do not use sex as an expression of friendship?"

"We use it as an expression of love. A very special kind of friendship," Margaidh added as she noticed Michael was still looking confused. She put her arms around his shoulders again, and smiled. "I have decided that you are a very special friend, Michael," she said quietly. "I would consider it an honour to make love with you."


	4. 5 July 3050

_Vesinur, Ridderkerk_

_Wolf Clan Occupation Zone_

_5th July 3050_

As Margaidh slowly awoke, she reached out an arm but found only an empty pillow. Suddenly awake now, she sat bolt upright, but Michael was not there.Searching in the dark she found the bedside light, switched it on, looked at her wristwatch. It was still the early hours of the morning, local time, but the _Lion's Pride would now be long gone, and Michael with it._

She lay back on the pillow but her mind was racing and she could not sleep again. It was not only thoughts about Michael that kept her awake, but also the uncomfortable feeling she still had that the room belonged to someone else. After half an hour of tossing and turning she got out of bed, dressed, and went outside.

The air was chill and the sky was clear of cloud, revealing a vast and moonless sea of stars. Margaidh lay back on a grassy embankment alongside the Mech hangar, watching them. The constellations were unfamiliar, as they always were on arrival at a new planet, and she found herself wondering if one of them was Barcelona. She tried to remember how far she had travelled since then, and how far away Barcelona actually was, but astrogation was not her strong point and she couldn't work it out.

_How many of those stars have worlds that are now in the hands of the Clans?_

She knew there were four different Clans in the invasion. Clans Jade Falcon and Wolf she had already met, Only Jade Falcon was exclusively invading the Federated Commonwealth. Clan Wolf's zone straddled the border with the Free Rasalhague Republic. Further away, in Kurita space, were the Clans Smoke Jaguar and Ghost Bear. But in addition to the four invading clans, there were thirteen others who had not taken any part in the invasion. Margaidh shuddered to think of the reinforcements that could be brought into the Inner Sphere, should the Khans, the Clan leaders, consider it necessary.

And that was another thing that seemed odd to Margaidh. Unlike the Successor Houses which had hereditary monarchies, the Clans all had elected leaders. Each Clan had two Khans elected from a Clan Council comprised of the Bloodnamed warriors.During times of war, the Khans of each Clan themselves formed the Grand Council, which elected a single overall leader, the ilKhan, to oversee all seventeen Clans.While it was not quite a perfect democracy, it was an improvement on anything the Successor Houses had to offer, andMargaidh suspected her mother may have approved.

Gradually the sky lightened to blue and Ridderkerk's small, pale sun rose above the horizon, obscuring the stars. Yawning, Margaidh returned to the accommodation block to get ready for another day's work.

After a cold shower, she sat on the bunk in her underwear, towelling her shoulder-length, sandy-brown hair dry with a pale blue towel she found in the cupboard. Startled by the sound of someone opening her door, she dropped the towel around herself and backed up against the window.

But the girl who came into the room was as surprised to find someone already there as Margaidh was. Her expression was of shock, followed by rage. "Who the hell are you?" the girl demanded.

"I am Margaidh, of Clan Wolf," Margaidh replied, the response by now automatic.

A flicker of a frown passed across the girl's pale, freckled face. Then she abruptly launched herself cat-like at Margaidh, long red hair flying like a mane behind her, and her fingernails clawing across Margaidh's face. "You killed Polly, you bitch!" the girl screamed.

At first taken aback by the girl's attack, Margaidh was pushed against the window with such force she thought it might break. But luckily it held, and dropping to one knee she avoided a right hook and delivered a sharp jab to the girl's midriff. The red-haired girl dropped back, winded, but her rage kept her going and she closed her fingers around Margaidh's throat. Margaidh gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the pain of fingernails pinching around her windpipe. She grabbed the girl's throat too, and it became a battle of strength as the two women grappled on the floor.

Margaidh's advantage in size and reach finally won the battle and she managed to break the smaller girl's grip. Quick as lightning, Margaidh rolled on top of her assailant, forcing her down with a knee pressed hard on her chest, and strong hands gripped around the other girl's wrists.

It was then that Margaidh noticed the girl's bondcord, and the girl noticed Margaidh's own, at almost exactly the same time. Slowly, and ready to react at a moment's notice, Margaidh relaxed her grip of the girl's wrists and let her go. She made no further attack.

"You must be Corporal K.L. Hollingwood," Margaidh said quietly, wiping blood from her cheek with the corner of the towel.

The girl nodded. "I was," she said, her voice gravelly. She struggled to her feet, coughed, and cleared her throat. "Now I'm just Kristen. This is my room."

"I'm sorry," Margaidh replied, feeling ashamed now. "I hadn't realised."

Kristen was frowning at Margaidh. "I gather from your speech and your accent that you're not a Clan warrior," she said.

Margaidh nodded, and reached for the towel again. "I was captured two months ago on Black Earth by the Jade Falcon Clan. But I got transferred to the Wolves." Margaidh decided not to reveal the details of such a deal, at least not yet.

"Where are you from? What regiment were you in?" Kristen demanded. "What's your surname?"

"I was a Leftenant in the Seventeenth Skye Rangers, I'm from Summer and my surname was Lewis." She dabbed at her cheek with the towel then looked at the scarlet bloodstain it now bore.

"Was? _Was?" Kristen said, her face contorted with anger. "Christ, it didn't take you long to switch sides, did it, Margaidh of Clan Wolf?" For a moment Kristen hovered on the verge of attacking Margaidh again. "But I suppose that's to be expected from those whingeing Skye Separatists." Kristen narrowed her green eyes at Margaidh. "That's Polly's towel," she added. "Put it down."_

At first Margaidh was about to lay into the young corporal about insubordination, but it would have been futile. Margaidh was no longer Kristen's superior officer; they were both equal as bondsmen under the Clans. Out of respect for a fallen comrade, Margaidh did as she was told.

While Margaidh continued to dress, she watched Kristen sorting through the cupboards and drawers. Half of the things, including the now-bloody blue towel, she put in a large cardboard box and then she put the box on top of the cupboard. "The top bunk is mine," Kristen said, her voice cold. "As is the left-hand side of the cupboard and the left hand drawers under the desk. Touch any of my things and I'll kill you."As an afterthought, she tossed Margaidh a towel, this one green. "You can keep that."

Margaidh caught the towel in mid air. "Look," she said, in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "If we're going to share a room, can't we try to be friends?"

"Friends?" Kristen replied, in the sort of tone she normally reserved for Kuritans. "I could never be friends with a traitor."

_Vesinur, Ridderkerk_

_Wolf Clan Occupation Zone_

_10th July 3050_

Despite Margaidh's best efforts, Kristen resisted all attempts at friendship, and Margaidh gave up trying. Kristen was bonded to Mechwarrior Jasmine of the Binary Rogue, who turned out to be a pleasant enough person, at least as far as Margaidh could make out. She was tall and wiry, not as open or talkative as Domask Lewis, nor was she as high-ranked, but she was patient and posessed of an inner strength Margaidh admired. She needed that strength too, because Kristen could not see past the slave-master relationship and she went out of her way to be as obstructive and objectionable as possible to her captors.

For two days, Kristen made every attempt to disrupt the running of the base. She shouted abuse at every Clan warrior she met, broke every piece of equipment she touched, and refused to carry out every order she was given. Finally, Jasmine got so fed up with her she struck Kristen such a blow to the face it knocked the girl unconscious, and she was carried to sickbay.

After a couple of days Kristen returned and was put to work in the same repair bay as Margaidh. She was less belligerent now, having learned that the easiest way not to get hurt was not to rock the boat. Nevertheless, she worked reluctantly and under close supervision so she could cause no further damage, and she refused to acknowledge Margaidh's presence at all, except to spit at her.Margaidh did her best to avoid Kristen as much as possible.

As she went to Storage Bay seven to collect spare parts, Margaidh had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being followed. She glanced back down the corridor but saw nothing. But as she passed an open doorway, she felt a hand across her mouth, and strong arms haul her through the door. Her assailant slammed the door shut with his boot, and then whirled Margaidh around to face him. His blue eyes had a malicious glint to them, and his face was drawn into a wolf-like sneer. He eyed her up and down in a greedy kind of way, and Margaidh instinctively knew what his intent was. She allowed herself a momentary glance around the room that was barely more than a large cupboard.

"Well, well, well. What a surprise. Lewis has let his whelp off its leash." The big blond man advanced on her, licking his lips. Margaidh stared, ready to run at a moment's notice. If only she had somewhere to run to. "You are a pretty _surat, too," he said with a grin. "Such a pity Lewis has no idea how to treat you."_

"Leave me alone," Margaidh said, trying to make her voice sound as threatening as possible. It wasn't easy when she was shaking so much.

The blond man gave an exaggerated gasp of mock surprise. "It can talk!" he exclaimed. "I wonder if it can do anything else." He grabbed her roughly by the collar and unzipped her jacket, pulling it off and casting it to one side, where it landed in a heap next to a cleaner's mop and bucket that stood in a corner. Then he started to unfasten her overalls too.

Margaidh gave a shrill scream that was cut short as the man thrust an oily, foul-tasting rag into her mouth. "Try that again, and I will kill you," he said. Margaidh had no doubt that he was capable of carrying out his threat.

The man pushed Margaidh up against the wall, sending the bucket flying, throwing water all over her jacket. He pressed himself hard up against her and she could smell his sweat. Weak with terror, she closed her eyes and prepared for the worst.

In the brief moment that the blond man relaxed his grip of her, perhaps to unfasten his own trousers, Margaidh ducked beneath his arm, snatched up the mop and dodged for the other side of the room. As she settled the mop handle into a combat position she spat the rag onto the floor. "If you want me you'll have to fight for me," she growled.

He wanted her bad. With a grunt, he made a lunge for her, and Margaidh neatly side-stepped out of the way, letting him crash into a set of shelves that tumbled like a house of cards, sending cans and bottles of cleaning fluid clattering to the floor. _I hope someone heard that, Margaidh thought to herself as she edged towards the door, still keeping a wary eye on her attacker._

The next time he lunged for her, she caught him with a sharp crack to the side of his head with the mop handle. He staggered back, and bellowed. "Stravag!" It would have been an ideal opportunity for Margaidh to follow up her blow with another, but the mop was no bo-staff. It was badly balanced and the soft mop meant she could not attack with both ends.

The blond man changed his tactic, and he made a grab for the mop instead of for the girl that held it. Margaidh was taken by surprise, and she was slammed up against the wall with a force that knocked the wind out of her. He held the mop handle pressed up against her throat. "You are about to regret that," he said, his face twisted with anger.

At that moment, the cupboard door flew open and Margaidh saw someone silhouetted in the doorway. "Let her go, Vincent!" a familiar voice bellowed.

_Domask! Thank God!_

Vincent growled and turned towards Domask, who was ready for him. The dark man nimbly side-stepped the blond one, whose momentum carried him through the open doorway. As he passed through, Domask brought both fists down hard on the back of Vincent's neck, knocking him to the floor where he lay still.

_Vesinur, Ridderkerk_

_Wolf Clan Occupation Zone_

_17th July 3050_

It was difficult enough having to share a room with Kristen, but having to work with her as well was almost intolerable, and Margaidh found herself wondering if Vincent mightn't be the more pleasant companion.Being attacked was one thing, but being the subject of such intense, silent hate was unbearable.

The two girls had been assigned to work on Jasmine's _Timber Wolf, after she had reported a fault with the feeder for the short-range missile system. The __Timber Wolf did not normally carry SRMs, but Jasmine preferred a configuration that was different from the more normal variant of extended-range lasers and long-range missiles that Domask preferred. Jasmine's variant carried Streak SRMs instead of LRMs, and two PPCs supported by four medium pulse lasers. Margaidh had a secret preference for Jasmine's version._

Despite her earlier misdemeanours, Kristen was fast proving herself to be a competent technician, and she was learning fast just how far advanced Clan technology was above that of the Inner Sphere. That didn't stop things going wrong, however, and in this particular case the cause of the malfunction was proving elusive. While Kristen concentrated on the missile feeder, Margaidh fetched the new missiles in readiness for reloading.She was barely half-way across the Mech hangar when she heard Kristen's terrified scream.

Margaidh sprinted back to the foot of the scaffold and started climbing the long ladder up to the gantry on which she and Kristen had been working. She couldn't see Kristen but she could hear her, still screaming for help and kicking wildly at the metal floor of the gantry some eight metres above her. Too long, it seemed Margaidh spent climbing the ladder, and by the time she reached the top, Kristen's screaming had become a terrified sobbing.

When Margaidh saw Kristen, her blood drained into her boots. Kristen was lying on her back on the gantry floor, her head half-inside the uncovered panel where the missile feeders were situated. But the machinery inside the _Timber Wolf was slowly turning, and Kristen's long red hair was tangled up with it, pulling her centimetre by centimetre towards the Mech's grinding innards._

A brief tug at Kristen's shoulders made the girl scream again, and Margaidh could tell that Kristen would not easily be freed. Jasmine, who had by now also clambered up the gantry, saw what was happening and immediately continued on up towards the cockpit. "I will shut the power off!" the Clan Mechwarrior called. "Do not panic!"

But Kristen was panicking already, kicking frantically. Her boot caught Margaidh on the chin, knocking her back against the railing. Briefly, Margaidh thought of her mother, falling from a gantry just like this one.

"Pack it in, Corporal!" Margaidh yelled at Kristen, knowing that the use of Kristen's rank would shock her still, even if only momentarily. It worked. Kristen stopped struggling, and lay still, although she still whimpered like a frightened puppy. The _Timber Wolf's missile feeder continued to turn._

"I'm going to get you out of there," Margaidh said. "Do you understand?"

Kristen nodded, but it hurt and she just whispered "Make it quick."

With her heart in her mouth Margaidh reached into the panel and took hold of Kristen's now grease-slicked hair. She gave a tug but it stayed fast. Again. Nothing shifted, except the missile feeder. Margaidh moved her hands out of the way moments before she too was dragged into the machinery.

From far above, she heard Jasmine's voice calling back down. "I cannot stop it from here!" she shouted. "There must be a short-circuit somewhere!"

Margaidh cursed under her breath and tugged again at Kristen's hair but it wouldn't budge."A knife!" she said urgently to Jasmine as the Mechwarrior came back down to their level. "Have you got a knife?"

"Aff," Jasmine replied. She reached into her boot and pulled out a small but relatively blunt blade,passing it to Margaidh. The tiny switch on the blade's hilt identified it as a vibroblade; Margaidh switched it on and it started to hum like an insect.

"What you going to do?" Kristen whispered, eying the blade nervously.

Margaidh did not reply, but deftly and swiftly reached forward with the blade and used it to cut straight through Kristen's hair just at the point where it was caught. There was a faint burning smell and the vibroblade sliced through as if there was nothing there. With a sob of relief, Kristen lunged forwards and Jasmine grabbed her arm, pulling her free. Margaidh switched off the vibroblade and tossed it back to Jasmine while the _Timber Wolf's missile feeder continued to grind into what remained of Kristen's hair._

While a knot of technicians swarmed like ants over the Timber Wolf, trying to discover the cause of the malfunction, Margaidh took Kristen back down to ground level and fetched her a coffee from an automated dispenser on the hangar's wall. Kristen took the coffee in a shaking hand and sat down on an empty crate.

"I bet I look a mess, don't I?" she said, with a faint, forced laugh. She was right. Her face and overalls were covered with oil and there were tracks down her face from her tears. Her hair was more black than ginger, and it stuck out at odd angles with its crude, short crop.

"Nothing a good hot shower won't fix," Margaidh replied.

Kristen gave her a quizzical look. "Why did you save me?" she asked. "After I treated you like shit?"

Margaidh shrugged. "I'd have done the same for anyone," she replied. "I don't like blood," she added, half-joking.

"I wouldn't have done it for you," Kristen said quietly.

"Lucky it wasn't me, then."

Kristen opened her mouth, about to make some retort, but she stopped. "I'm sorry, Margaidh," she said instead.

_Vesinur, Ridderkerk_

_Wolf Clan Occupation Zone_

_19th July 3050_

Kristen looked completely different with close-cropped hair, but Margaidh thought it suited her better. It matched her hard-bitten, aggressive personality which had softened somewhat since her recent brush with death. There were no more attempts at disruption or sabotage, and while neither of the two would have described the other as a friend, at least they were speaking civilly to one another.

Domask Lewis did not comment on the situation until two days later, as he accompanied Margaidh to the Mech Hangar.

"Why did you save that girl's life?" he asked, keeping his face expressionless and his eyes fixed on something in the middle distance.

For a moment Margaidh said nothing. There was something about the question that reminded her of a test, rather than a casual question in conversation. "She would have been killed," Margaidh replied at length. "There was no-one else close enough to help her." Domask 'hmm-ed' and Margaidh could tell he expected her to be more specific. "No-one deserves to die in a horrid accident like that," she said. "Warriors should die in battle."

"Kristen is not a warrior," Domask reminded her. "She is a Bondsman, like you."

"She was a warrior not too long ago, as was I," Margaidh replied. "And maybe she will be again." She studied Domask's face in profile. "As may I."

Domask nodded so slightly Margaidh barely noticed the gesture. Then he abruptly stopped mid-stride and turned to look at Margaidh, his gaze stern and penetrating. "Do you think Kristen is good enough to be a warrior?"

Margaidh frowned. "I do not know. I have never seen her in battle."

"And you? Are you good enough?"

This time there was no hesitation. "Aff," she replied.

_Vesinur, Ridderkerk_

_Wolf Clan Occupation Zone_

_9th September 3050_

After that incident, Kristen's attitude towards Margaidh was much improved, although she would still not have called her room-mate a friend. Margaidh's other concern was Vincent, who continued to pester her at every opportunity after their unpleasant encounter in the store-cupboard. She spent much of her spare time practising alone with the bo-staff, partly to keep herself in shape and partly to reassure herself that if Vincent tried anything on again, she would be able to defend herself. Provided, of course, there was a mop handy.

But a bondsman's day was a long and busy one, and spare time was not easy to come by. Margaidh's hopes of returning home gradually dwindled but she ached to get back into the cockpit of a mech once more. As an assistant to the techs, Margaidh was given a Tech's passcode that allowed her to move mechs in and out of the hangars without allowing any of the weapons or other systems to be used. But walking the battle machines in and out of a hangar was not Margaidh's idea of being a Mechwarrior, and she yearned for more.

And then her dreams were brought to an abrupt and terrible end.

Domask had taken his _Timber Wolf out alone to patrol the Downs just outside the base, after a rumour that there was a guerilla force in hiding in the area. Margaidh was working on a __Hellbringer, a Mech that was somewhere between the __Mad Dog and the __Timber Wolf in size. She was sitting in the __Hellbringer's cockpit with the engine running on tickover when she spotted something on the Magscan screen._

The green mark at the top of the screen was Domask; she'd been watching him for the last half hour striding back and forth across his search area. But a few hundred metres away from Domask's position was a small red mark; unidentified. Frowning, she switched on the IFF computer and after a moment or two, it tagged the red mark with an identification code. SHD-2H _Shadow Hawk._

"Shit!"

With the instincts of a Mechwarrior not lessened by six months layoff, Margaidh pulled down the neurohelmet and clamped it down over her head. Her _Hellbringer had reached the base perimeter even before the engine was at full power, and she was already running at over sixty kilometres per hour.As the Mech's pace increased, so did the temperature inside the cockpit and she wondered just how long she could last in there without a cooling vest. __No time to worry about that, Margaidh.Just imagine it's a typical summer's day on Barcelona._

As she got closer to the _Shadow Hawk she realised it had secreted itself in cover of light woods, and was in a perfect position to launch long range missiles in Domask's direction. As Domask continued his search pattern, it was clear he had not spotted the ambush._

Only as Margaidh closed in on the _Shadow Hawk and brought the two PPC cannons to bear did she remember that she had logged into the Mech's computer using the Tech's password, and consequently the weapons would not arm. "Shit!" she swore again, and powered the __Hellbringer up to its top speed. At least she wouldn't have to worry about the extra heat from firing the weapons. She wondered with a smile how much damage a Mech of sixty-five tons, travelling at ninety kilometres an hour, could do to a__Shadow Hawk._

The _Shadow Hawk pilot spotted the __Hellbringer moment's before the impact, and it swivelled round, pointing the barrel of its Autocannon directly at Margaidh's cockpit. Margaidh caught a glimpse of the insignia of the First Lyran Regulars on the __Shadow Hawk's breastplate just before she crashed into it._

Armour flew from both Mechs and screens inside the cockpit flickered and crackled as internal circuitry was shaken by the blow. Only as both Mechs began to fall did Margaidh notice with horror the steep hillside, almost a cliff, right behind the _Shadow Hawk._

The _Hellbringer landed first right on top of the __Shadow Hawk, and one of the __Hellbringer's great PPC's broke right off, myomer muscles tearing and endo-steel bones snapping like willow twigs. Then Margaidh's Mech rolled off the smaller one, and tumbled head over heels down the cliff, tearing trees down with it as it fell. Margaidh was thrown about like a cat in a barrel, and she screamed aloud as she felt a sudden sharp pain in the small of her back that left her trembling with agony as the __Hellbringer came to rest, crumpled and broken, in the valley bottom._

Margaidh smelled coolant from leaking heatsinks, then she saw an orange flash as the _Shadow Hawk, still near the top of the hill, erupted in a ball of nuclear fire._

_I have to get out of here! she thought to herself, imagining she could already see smoke curling from the __Hellbringer's chest.With trembling fingers she unfastened the straps on her seat and she fell straight out of it, landing in a heap over the front panels. The pain in her back left her feeling dizzy with the intensity of it, and the slightest movement made it worse._

_Dammit. I must have slipped a disc or something.She felt as though something was pinning her legs down because she couldn't move them, and propping herself on shaky arms, she looked at them. There was nothing pinning her legs down, but her right leg was broken just below the knee and bent at an impossible angle._

She frowned at it for a moment, wondering why she hadn't felt it, then a wave of pain and dizziness overcame her, and she blacked out.

* * *


	5. 10 September 3050

_Visinur, Ridderkerk_

_Wolf Clan Occupation Zone_

_10th September 3050_

Margaidh opened her eyes very slowly, and blinked at bright lights on a white ceiling. Frowning, she slowly turned her head to the side, saw white walls, a window, a stack of electrical equipment. It took a good two or three minutes before she realised she was no longer in the cockpit of a smashed-up _Hellbringer. This was a hospital. She made a feeble attempt to sit but couldn't, and her face contorted with the pain that flooded over her like a wave of heat._

"Shhh, don't try to move," said a kind, feminine voice. "I'm Nurse Thorensen. You're in the Maria Kelswa Memorial Hospital. You were in an accident. Do you remember?" 

Margaidh nodded weakly, remembering every painful detail. "How long have I been here?" she asked quietly.

"Since yesterday. You were in surgery six hours." Nurse Thorensen smiled but Margaidh noticed a trace of sadness behind it. "The doctor will be coming to see you shortly. Try and rest now." But Margaidh could not rest. She could only worry that she had no feeling in her legs.

In Margaidh's experience of hospitals, doctors tended to come and go only as they pleased, and so she was surprised when the doctor, whose name was Collins, arrived at her bedside in lessthan five minutes. His expression was grave.

"Miss Wolf?" he said, sitting down on a chair beside the bed.

Margaidh nodded. The name sounded strange, but she did not have the energy to disagree with him. She looked him hard in the eyes. "It's bad, isn't it?" she asked, her mouth suddenly dry.

Doctor Collins nodded slowly. "You have sustained a compound fracture of the ninth and tenth thoracic vertebrae, the spinal cord is severed. We have already operated to pin the eighth to eleventh vertebrae, but the prognosis is not good."

Margaidh's eyes glazed over, and she didn't hear the rest. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and shake off the image of her mother that came to her mind. "I suppose I won't be getting into a Mech in the near future?" she asked quietly.

Doctor Collins shook his head. "There is no chance that you will walk again, Miss Wolf."

A wave of terror flooded over Margaidh. _Mother of gods! Anything but this! _

When Margaidh was a child, all the other children in her class had heroes. Some were characters from holovids, some were rock stars, others were Solaris mechwarriors. Margaidh's hero was her mother. No-one was as strong or as brave, or as worthy of respect in the eyes of that wilful eleven-year old girl.And then, suddenly, Eleanor Lewis had changed. Her spirit broken as well as her spine, she became small and weak and scared. The Lewis fire was all but extinguished, and there followed a downward spiral of depression, alcoholism and suicide attempts.

Eleanor's accident had been a turning point for her daughter. Margaidh had wanted to be a Mechwarrior as soon as she was old enough to crawl up onto the Blue Skye's great foot, but then it became an obsession. Margaidh had been determined to achieve that which fate had stolen from her mother. She could not believe that fate could be so cruel as to steal the same from her too.

"Margaidh?"Kristen put a hand on Margaidh's shoulder, and shook it gently. Margaidh ignored her, pretending to be asleep. "I was worried about you," she added. Margaidh opened her eyes and Kristen could see they were red with crying. "I came as soon as I heard. Christ, Margaidh, I'm so sorry."She sat down beside Margaidh's bed and looked at the machinery she was hooked up to.

Margaidh sniffed, took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Thanks for coming. I wasn't sure if you would."

"I was a bitch to you, and I'm sorry," Kristen replied. She looked down at her hands. "At first I thought you were a coward, for collaborating with the Clans. But a coward couldn't have done what you did. You don't deserve…" she waved a hand at the machines, and the bed. "No-one deserves this."

Margaidh smiled weakly at Kristen then stared up at the lights in the ceiling, so the other girl couldn't see the tears again. "This is getting to be a family tradition," she said, as much to herself as anyone else. She snapped her gaze back to Kristen. "I never told you anything about my mother, did I?"

"You mentioned she was a Skye Separatist," Kristen replied, with the vaguest trace of contempt.

"My mother was a Mechwarrior in the Seventeenth Skye Rangers. Then, when I was eleven years old, she fell from a gantry in a repair bay, and broke her back. She's been in a wheelchair ever since." Margaidh sniffed, and blinked back tears.

Kristen turned pale.

"Three months after the accident I came home early from school and found her out cold on the bathroom floor with her wrists slashed. If I'd been on time, she would have died."

"Jesus Christ," Kristen whispered.

"Would you do something for me?" Margaidh asked, studying Kristen's face hard. 

Kristen nodded. "Of course."

"Try and smuggle in a vibroblade. I know Jasmine has one."

Kristen frowned, then her jaw dropped as she realised just what Margaidh was asking her to do. "No way, Margaidh! I'm not going to help you commit suicide!"

"You must!" Margaidh pleaded. "I cannot live my life like this! What place could I have in Clan society as a cripple? I will be less than nothing!"

"I can't do it, Margaidh!" Kristen protested.

"Kristen, please!"

Kristen glared at Margaidh, her face now angry."When I first met you, I thought you were a coward, then I thought you weren't. Now I think I was right first time." And with that she turned and marched away, leaving Margaidh with her eyes full of tears.

_Visinur, Ridderkerk_

_Wolf Clan Occupation Zone_

_11th September 3050_

The following day Domask visited her for the first time. Margaidhthought he looked in a remarkably good mood, considering the position she was in, but she said nothing. He did not even thank her for saving his ass.

"How long does the doctor think you will be here?" he asked, scrutinising the machinery beside the bed, and turning up his nose at it. "Are you really hooked up to all this junk?"

"They're monitoring my life signs," Margaidh said. "And that one administers a regulated dosage of painkillers whenever the other machines tell it I need some."

"It looks like the dark ages," Domask muttered. "How long before you can leave here?" he asked again.

Margaidh shrugged as much as the piles of pillows would allow. "Months, probably," she replied. "Not that it matters, I will not be trying out to be a warrior after all."

Domask frowned. "What has that _stravag fool of a freebirthed doctor told you?"_

"My back is broken, Domask. And I have as much metal holding my right leg together as your _Timber Wolf has.That might have mattered, if there was ever a chance I could walk again." Margaidh's voice was full of bitterness._

Domask slammed his fists against the wall, his face contorted with fury. "This is preposterous!" he raged. "Where is he?" Then he went out into the corridor, bellowing for the doctor.

Doctor Collins came hurrying in, his white coat flying, to find out what the fuss was about. "Can't you keep your voice down?" he hissed at Domask. "There are sick people here. Just who do you think you are?"

Domask grabbed the doctor by the collar, and lifted him two inches off the floor. "I am Star Commander Domask Lewis of the 328th Assault Cluster, Alpha Galaxy, of the Clan Wolf." He let go, and Doctor Collins dropped heavily to his feet.

The doctor brushed his coat down, more a nervous habit than a need to neaten its appearance. "What's your problem, Mr Lewis?"

Domask pointed at Margaidh. "She is my problem. I want her out of here and moved to our own facilities before the end of the day."

Doctor Collins shook his head. "That's out of the question. She has a severe spinal injury, she…"

"Her severe spinal injury will _stay severe if you do not allow our own medical staff to treat her in our own facilities." Margaidh had never seen Domask in such a rage. "I will not accept a refusal."_

Doctor Collins was flustered, his face red. "It is impossible, I cannot authorise…"

"_This gives you all the authority you need," Domask hissed, drawing a laser pistol and holding the business end of it just centimetres from the doctor's sweating head. "If you continue to obstruct me I shall bring a larger laser, with a seventy-five ton Battlemech attached to it."_

By this time, a knot of hospital security guards had gathered, to find out what all the noise was about. They paled when they saw Domask pointing a gun at the doctor, and drew their own weapons. Domask was not deterred. "Put those away, and make yourselves useful," he shouted at them. "I want an ambulance ready and waiting at the nearest available exit in half an hour."

Doctor Collins, in a last attempt to ease the tension and get all those laser pistols put away, raised his hands in submission. "Alright, Mr Lewis. I will see what I can do." And with that, he hurried away, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his coat. The security men shrugged in confusion and followed him.

Margaidh was staring at Domask, her eyes wide. "Why all the fuss?" she asked quietly. "I am only a bondsman."

Domask snapped his gaze towards her. He was frowning. "Two days ago, you revealed yourself to have the heart of a true warrior. In saving my life I am now indebted to you, and I am honour-bound to do everything in my power to ensure you receive the best possible treatment." Margaidh stared at him, her eyes wide. She had not expected her action to have had such far-reaching consequences, and she wondered if the situation would be any different had her injury not been as serious. But knowing what she knew about honour among Clan warriors, she decided it would probably have been the same.

But three words echoed in her head. _Best possible treatment…"What… treatment?" she asked, her mouth suddenly dry._

Domask sagged, as though all the tension had suddenly drained from his body."Clan medicine is far in advance of this rubbish," he said, waving a hand at Margaidh's machines. "Damaged vertebrae and nervous tissue can be replaced. We use a form of neural replication to grow new tissue, so even damaged sections of the spinal cord can be repaired." Domask gave a shrug. "The success rate is not quite a hundred percent, but it is better than none."

Margaidh swallowed hard. "Are you saying, I could get back into a Mech again?"

Domask shrugged. "Ninety percent of patients make at least a partial recovery."

"_Partial recovery? What about a full recovery?" Margaidh said, avoiding Domask's gaze. "I want to be a warrior, remember? I want my name back."_

Domask shrugged. "It has been known for patients undergoing this treatment to resume military careers." Margaidh could not convince him to say how many. Or how few.

"Speed is of the essence," said Domask, looking out of the door for any sign of action before returning to Margaidh's bedside."Success is dependent upon the speed at which treatment is done."

"Where would you take me?" she asked. "The sickbay at the base barely has the facilities to treat a common cold."

"To the _Lion's Heart Command Dropship. They will be waiting for you."_

It seemed like an age before Doctor Collins returned, looking now less flustered. He frowned at Domask. "I don't suppose I can persuade you to change your mind?" he asked nervously.

"Neg," snapped Domask. "Move her."

Collins waved two burly porters into the room, and bent over Margaidh. "Normally, we wouldn't move you, and we'll try and do this as slowly as we can. But it may be painful, so I'm going to give you a shot of…"

"Do not put any more of your drugs into her!" Domask demanded. "They will interfere with our treatment. Detach her from your barbaric machines before you move her."

"But… but…" Collins stammered.

Domask lowered his face to the level of Collins' own, and his mouth twisted into a snarl. "Unless the situation is immediately life-threatening, you will administer no further treatment to this patient, do you understand?"

Collins nodded, and started to detach wires and sensors from Margaidh's arms and chest. One by one he switched all the machines off.For a brief moment, Margaidh was afraid that one of them might be the only thing keeping her alive, and if it were turned off she would die, but nothing untoward happened. The porters kicked off the brakes on the bed's wheels, and began to push it at snail's pace out of the ward and into the corridor.

Margaidh imagined she could feel every tiny bump in the floor, as even the slightest shake of the bed sent a sharp stab of pain fron the small of her back right up to her neck. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, not wanting to show distress. But under the blankets, she was gripping the bedsheets so tightly her fingernails tore through them. 

It seemed to be taking so long, she wished they would hurry up and get on with it. At long last they reached the door, and she saw an ambulance waiting, its doors wide open. Oh, so slowly, the porters lifted the bed right off its wheeled frame and slid it gently into its resting place in the ambulance. Domask followed and pulled the doors shut behind him, then he banged on the glass separating the main part of the ambulance from the driver's cab. "Move it!" he yelled. "On the double!"

There was a limit to the slowness of pace the standard petrol-driven ambulance could manage, and the first time it went round a corner Margaidh screamed as the pain reached almost intolerable heights. Then she felt something sticky, a medi-patch maybe, on her arm and slowly the pain ebbed away, leaving her feeling rather fluff-headed."You will feel no pain now," Domask said, and banged again on the glass panel. "Step on it!" he yelled at the driver. "You have two minutes before I break through this glass and take over!"

Margaidh tried to count the seconds, to see if he really did allow two minutes, but she only got to fifteen before she forgot why she was counting, or what number came next. She heard the tyres screech to a halt and when she was hauled out of the ambulance the trolley was lifted by several pairs of hands, carrying her towards the waiting Dropship.

Margaidh gripped Domask's hand tightly, not wanting to lose sight of him. Her face was etched with fear. "Don't leave me," she whispered.

"I will not leave you, Margaidh."

She felt another Medi-patch on her arm, and this time it was a stronger one. The blue sky faded to black even before she was inside the Dropship.

_Aboard the 'Lion's Heart'_

_Visinur, Ridderkerk_

_Wolf Clan Occupation Zone_

_25th September 3050_

"Domask!"

Margaidh heard herself call his name even before she realised she was beginning to awaken. She felt heady and dull lights swirled about her in the dimly lit room as she struggled to work out where she was. Vague snatches of memory returned; the Dropship, a ride in an ambulance, Domask losing his temper, falling down a hillside in a battlemech.

_I broke my back._

She frowned and remembered Domask rushing her out of the civillian hospital to bring her back to the Dropship. But why?

_For the treatment that might cure me._

Cautiously she moved her left hand until it touched her thigh. She could feel skin under her fingertips, but nothing else. Concentrating hard, she was aware that all sensation of touch stopped at her waist, just as before.

_It didn't work!_

Margaidh felt as though her heart was going to burst right out of her chest, and she gave a feeble, coughing sob. "Domask!"

"I am here." She felt his hand gently resting on her shoulder and she turned to face him, struggling to see the detail of his features in the dim light.

Someone else came forward, introduced himself as Doctor Jordan. "How do you feel, Margaidh? Are you in any pain?"

"Neg," she whispered, her mouth feeling dry. "But I still can't feel my legs." She forgot not to use a contraction, but no-one seemed to notice or care.

"That is to be expected, at this early stage," said Doctor Jordan. "Sensation will start to return in a few days, with luck."

"What have you done to me?"

"We have removed the damaged bone and a ten-centimeter length of your spinal cord. Then we implanted new replicating cell material. Over the past two weeks you have been sedated but your body has been busy growing itself a new section of spinal cord, and two new vertebrae."

Margaidh stared. "Already?"

"Well, no, not yet. But things are progressing on schedule. The delicate stage of initial grafting is complete, it now remains only for you to regain strength and mobility, and allow the new material to grow to its fullest capacity." He turned away briefly, then looked back at her, as if he'd just remembered something else."And we have repaired the break in your right leg too. Um, shall we raise the lights now?" he asked. "You are not suffering photophobia, _quineg?"_

"Neg."

Gradually the lights brightened to reveal the details of the room that were previously obscured. She was surprised to find that it looked rather like an ordinary hospital room, except the walls were windowless and were painted a deep golden colour like the lion's head on the insignia of the 328th Assault Cluster. As in the hospital, there was a bank of machinery by the bed monitoring Margaidh's progress, only these ones looked far more sophisticated.

"How long will it be before I can start moving about?" Margaidh asked cautiously.

"Tomorrow," said Jordan with a smile. "Let us not rush things."

_ _

_Visinur, Ridderkerk,_

_Wolf Clan Occupation Zone_

_26th September 3050_

The following morning, Doctor Jordan came into the room pushing an empty wheelchair scavenged from the hospital in Visinur. Margaidh stared at it, her face bearing an expression of disgust. She bit back the urge to tell Doctor Jordan that she wouldn't need it for long.

"This is your bait," the doctor said to Margaidh. "Something to aim for." Margaidh gave a derisory snort, and Jordan pretended he hadn't heard it. "We are going to try sitting up today, and if you manage it, you can sit in the chair."

Jordan pointed at the low stainless steel rails running along the sides of the bed. "Grab onto those for support, and I will be right beside you if you need me."

Margaidh noddd, and closed her hands around the rails. Then she took a deep breath, and slowly pulled herself forwards. For a moment, she thought she would pass out. There was little pain, but she felt as though her whole body was made of lead, and her arms were shaking so much she could hardly hold herself there.It felt odd to have no sensation in the lower part of her body.

"Just a little more," Jordan encouraged.

Margaidh gave a half-scream, half-growl of frustration and sank back onto the pillows. "I can't," she said, lapsing into Inner Sphere speech and closing her eyes against the tears.

"Yes you can," said the doctor sternly. "Try again."

Margaidh rubbed her face and tried again. This time she managed a couple of centimetres further than before, but again she fell back, her hands sliding off the rails. Jordan caught her on the shoulders and lowered her back slowly onto the pillows. "I can't do it," Margaidh said, crying now.

"I thought all Mechwarriors were tough, quiaff_?" Jordan remarked, trying to goad Margaidh to anger rather than despair. Twenty long years in medicine had taught him that anger is a far more positive emotion when it came to getting people mobile after serious injury._

"Neg. I'm not a Mechwarrior, I'm a bondsman!" Margaidh snapped at the doctor.

The doctor frowned at her. "When you were with the Federated Commonwealth, what regiment were you in?" he asked.

"Seventeenth Skye Rangers," Margaidh said, with a feeling of pride.

"And… do you suppose your commanding officer in the Seventeenth Skye Rangers would be happy to see you here, crying like a baby because you cannot sit up?"

Margaidh glared at the doctor. "I wouldn't know. He's dead."

"Well, let us pretend he is still alive," said Jordan. "Let us pretend he is on his way to see you right now. Try again."

Grabbing hold of the rails again, Margaidh took a deep breath and let it all out again in a long yell as she pulled hard, hauling herself upright with one tremendous effort. Then it was a matter of keeping her balance as she rocked alarmingly on a backside she couldn't feel, her expression now one of surprise, gradually changing to childlike delight.

"Well done," said Doctor Jordan. He put one of his strong hands against Margaidh's back to stop her slouching, and Margaidh winced with a sudden, unexpected pain that shot up to her shoulderblades. "I think that will be enough for today," he said.

"Neg," Margaidh replied abruptly. "I want to get into the chair." She couldn't bring herself to say _wheelchair._

"Okay," Jordan replied cautiously. "If you are sure." Margaidh nodded hard. "Do you think you can hold yourself up while I fetch it?" Margaidh nodded again, quicker this time because she wasn't certain she could.

With her arms straining, Margaidh held herself upright as Doctor Jordan brought the wheelchair up alongside the bed. He lowered one rail and Margaidh transferred her grip to Doctor Jordan's shoulder, and as the doctor gently pulled, Margaidh pushed with her other arm and she slid somewhat awkwardly into the chair. Her legs flopped down as soon as they were no longer supported by the mattress and she glanced anxiously at the doctor, but he seemed unconcerned. _Maybe it's normal at this stage… Feeling something now at her back, Margaidh relaxed into the chair, and allowed herself a cautious smile._

"You're looking pleased for yourself," said Kristen from the doorway. "I've been watching you from the door for the last five minutes." She came into the room and sat herself on the bed, unhitching a backpack from her shoulder. "I brought some stuff so you wouldn't get bored. A few holovid tapes, books, and some chocolates I bought in Visinur."

Margaidh smiled at Kristen. "I'd rather you took me out for a walk," she said. "I want some fresh air and a change of scenery."

The doctor nodded and told Kristen to bring his patient back in half an hour, and she wasn't to try getting out of the wheelchair. Leaving the pack on the bed, Kristen grabbed hold of the wheelchair's handles and pushed Margaidh out of the ward into the corridor. "Okay, where do you want to go?"

Margaidh shrugged. "Anywhere. Only, let me push myself, thanks. Walk beside me."

Kristen did as she was told and Margaidh propelled herself along with her hands on the wheel rims. When they reached a corner, and Margaidh executed a perfect turn, Kristen's eyebrows raised in surprise. "You learn faster than I thought," she said.

"I used to practise with my mam's spare," Margaidh explained. "We would race each other down the street."

Kristen laughed. "Who won?"

"She did. Every time."

They took the lift down to ground level and as they emerged into the light Margaidh blinked, and shivered against the cold. She had forgotten until then that she was still wearing her nightclothes. So Kristen sprinted across the tarmac towards the accommodation block and returned with Margaidh's jacket and a pair of socks.

"Remember you asked me to borrow Jasmine's knife?" Kristen asked as she helped Margaidh with the socks. Margaidh nodded. "Well, I changed my mind. I did, but I had to put it back. Domask already had everything sorted."

Margaidh stared. "What made you change your mind?" she asked.

Kristen shrugged. "I guess if it was me lying there with a broken back I would have wanted you to do the same for me. I'm just glad you're going to be alright."

"I hope," Margaidh said, biting her lip. "But thanks anyway," she added. "For doing as I asked. Now I know you're a real friend." 


	6. 30 September 3050

_Visinur, Ridderkerk_

_Wolf Clan Occupation Zone_

_30th September 3050_

The first thing Margaidh did when she awoke each morning over the next four days, was to test her legs to see if any sensation had returned. Each morning the result was the same big fat nothing, and her spirits slipped lower as she started to think about the ten percent of patients that fail to make any recovery from the replication treatment.

Kristen was not allowed to spend any more time with Margaidh as she had duties to fulfil for Jasmine, but Domask called in every day and he accompanied her as she wheeled herself around the base. The first day with Kristen she had been allowed only half an hour, but by the end of September Doctor Jordan allowed her to stay out most of the afternoon.

Margaidh was beginning to wonder when she would start to regain movement and sensation in her legs, so she could try standing and taking a few short steps. She did not wish to sit around in the wheelchair more than was absolutely necessary. However, for the moment she was left with a choice of a wheelchair or the bed, and the choice was not a difficult one.

"I am starting to appreciate why my mother got so distressed after her own accident," Margaidh said to Domask as they sat in the Mech Bay, watching Kristen and a handful of Techs converting a _Timber Wolf to a new configuration._

"I do not understand," Domask replied, frowning.

"It's driving me stir-crazy," she replied. "I could never tolerate sitting about doing nothing, and right now I have no choice."

"You are bored? Perhaps we could go into Visinur for some entertainment?"

Margaidh shook her head. "Not boredom, exactly," she said. "More like frustration. The only things I want to do are the things I can't do. Like taking a Mech out."

"Hmmm." Margaidh could see Domask was deep in thought, and after a few minutes he went off to talk with the senior Technician, leaving Margaidh alone. Judging from the way Domask was waving his arms about, the conversation was a heated one, but after a few minutes Margaidh grew bored with watching them argue, so she wheeled herself off towards the mess-hall for lunch.

It was while she sat there eating alone that she noticed it. A light, cold feeling, as though a cool draught was blowing on her left foot. She dropped her fork with a clatter onto the plate and wheeled herself back to the drop-ship at a pace that felt as though it would have stripped seconds off her mother's best time down the street and back. By the time she reached the medical centre she was panting hard. Doctor Jordan frowned at her anxiously.

"It's started!" Margaidh said, barely above a whisper. "I can feel it!"

Jordan stared, and he pulled Margaidh's chair into the medical room. He did a whole battery of tests on her, that lasted the whole of the rest of the afternoon, at the end of which he sat back with a smile on his face. "You are correct," he said. "Neural responses are up to almost two-point-five percent."

Margaidh frowned. "Two-point-five? What should it be?"

"A hundred," Jordan replied, as if she were of sub-normal intelligence. "You have a long way to go yet, Margaidh."He folded his arms and gave a sigh. "I assume Domask warned you that the likelihood of a one-hundred percent recovery are slight. Spinal injuries are highly complex to repair, and unless conditions are absolutely optimum, a partial recovery is far more likely."

"What do I need to be a Mechwarrior?" she asked.

Jordan stared hard at her. "A hundred and twenty percent."

_Visinur, Ridderkerk_

_Wolf Clan Occupation Zone_

_5th October_

The next time, Margaidh's neural responses were up to four percent, but she didn't feel any different and her legs were still limp and useless. _Only another hundred and sixteen to go, she thought to herself, wondering if she would ever make it. But Jordan decided to allow her out of the medical bay and back to her old room, provided she came back first thing every morning for a check-up, and let him know at the first sign of any movement. The last instruction was sweetened with a promise about starting to walk again._

Margaidh discovered the hard way how narrow the lift doors were, but with a good deal of wriggling she managed to get up to the third floor, and into her room. When Kristen returned after work, she squealed with delight and gave Margaidh a hug. "I wasn't expecting you out so soon!" she exclaimed. "Does this mean you're really on the mend?"

Margaidh shrugged. "I suppose, though I can't say I've noticed much improvement yet."

"We have to go out and celebrate!" Kristen said.

"I don't really feel like…"

"Oh, don't be such a bore, Mags."

So Margaidh reluctantly agreed, and that evening the two girls visited a nightspot known locally as _Sally's Bar and Grill. The only catch was that Domask and Jasmine both insisted on accompanying them. Bondsmen were not allowed to socialise off-base alone._

_Sally's Bar and Grill was once an out-of-the way place with a small and rather uncouth clientele, but since the invasion it had become famous as the only site of combat within Visinur itself. A mixed company of Lyran infantry and waitresses had almost succeeded in capturing an elemental inside the bar, and with the influx of customers wanting to see the place, the proprietor had managed to save sufficient funds to repair the damage._

While Domask and Jasmine sat at a nearby table keeping a careful watch of their charges, Margaidh and Kristen made a bee-line for the bar. Margaidh discovered how useful a wheelchair was for getting people to move out of the way, and when they reached the bar, she craned her neck to see over the top.

"What can I get you two lovely ladies?" asked the barman, a rather overwight, middle-aged man looking odd in a black tuxedo.

"Two PPC's," Margaidh said, before Kristen had time to reply. "One Steiner, one Skye." The barman frowned, and once again Margaidh had to explain how to make the drink.

Kristen gaped at Margaidh. "And I thought you were such a goody-two-shoes," she said with a grin. 

"I'm in a mean mood," Margaidh replied. When the drink arrived she nodded at Kristen. "_Sláinte mhór," she said, then knocked it back in her usual manner, and thumped the empty glass back on the bar top. "Now I'll have something decent," she said to the barman. "A double scotch, neat. And it better be a good one, I don't want any of that Donegal piss."_

To Margaidh's dismay, 'Donegal piss' was all they had, but after a couple of doubles, she decided she didn't care. Kristen was simply amazed at just how much alcohol Margaidh could knock back without any apparent ill-effects.

"It's my mam's fault," Margaidh explained. "She hit the bottle hard after her accident, and being an impressionable teenager, I suppose I just copied her example. I used to steal Scotch from her drinks cabinet and take it to school. I got suspended once for drinking in class, and I drank a whole bottle of the best Skye malt on the night before my final exam at Sanglamore." Kristen gaped. "Mind you, I still passed with a Distinction," Margaidh added, grinning as she downed her fourth and ordered another.

The barman was beginning to get anxious. "Are you sure you want another, missy?" he said. 

Margaidh frowned up at him, irritated at being called 'missy'. "I'm sure," she said. "I was legless when I came in," she added with a grin, tapping at the wheelchair. "What do you want me to do, walk in a straight line?"

The barman shook his head and brought Margaidh another drink.

"I noticed Domask has hardly left you alone since your accident," Kristen said. Margaidh nodded. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say there was something going on between you. You're fond of him, aren't you?"

Margaidh nodded, glancing across towards the table where he and Jasmine were deep in conversation. "I am fond of him, but it's not romantic or anything like that. He's… more like an older brother, or the father I never had."She watched Domask for a while, then her attention was caught by a group of young people out on the dance floor, and Margaidh felt a sudden longing to be able to join them.She wheeled herself back to the bar, bought a bottle of Donegal Scotch to take away, and nodded at Kristen. "I want to go home now," she said, the smile on her face now gone.

When they got back to her room, Margaidh realised that she'd called it 'home' for the first time ever, even though this was only her first night there in nearly a month. Kristen helped her onto the lower bunk and folded the wheelchair because the room was really too small for it, and Margaidh lay on her front, pouring scotch into two glasses on the floor.

"You really shouldn't have any more, Mags," Kristen said, putting a hand up for Margaidh to stop pouring. "You'll be ill."

"I never get ill with scotch," Margaidh said, picking up her own glass. "Other things, sometimes, but never with scotch."

"Hmm, well I don't want to have to wheel you all the way back to hospital to get your stomach pumped out," Kristen remarked. She paused to watch Margaidh, who was looking at her glass but with a vacant, faraway gaze. She saw too, a tear trickling down Margaidh's cheek.

"Margaidh? What's wrong?Mags?"

Margaidh snapped back to reality, and looked at Kristen. Her eyes were wide with fear. "What if the treatment hasn't worked, Kristen?" she whispered.

"I'm sure you'll recover, Mags. Doctor Jordan said you were getting on fine."

But Margaidh was unconvinced and she started to cry, so Kristen gently took her glass out of her hand and set it on the desk before putting her arms around Margaidh's heaving shoulders. "Don't cry, Mags, please," Kristen said, trying to bite back tears of her own.Margaidh rested her head on Kristen's shoulder and as her sobbing began to subside once more she found the steady rhythm of her heartbeat a comfort. Like a baby in the womb.

Afterwards, when she thought about the events that followed, Margaidh could not be sure who started it, or what exactly happened. But somehow, she found herself lying on the bunk with Kristen's bare skin pressed close up against her own. She closed her eyes and buried her face in her soft red hair, concentrating only on the scent of whatever shampoo she'd used earlier that day, and taking pleasure from the gentle touch of Kristen's hands on her naked body.

She gave a soft sigh, and began to reciprocate, feeling the softness of Kristen's own silky white skin. Kristen squirmed with pleasure as Margaidh's hands caressed her breasts and her lips closed on Kristen's own in a tender and passionate kiss.Margaidh felt Kristen take hold of her wrist and gently slide her hand down over her abdomen until she could feel soft curly hair. Then Margaidh's fingers searched deeper until she felt wetness, and Kristen's back arched with the thrill of Margaidh's touch.

It did not matter to Margaidh that she could not enjoy the same pleasure from Kristen's touch as Kristen enjoyed from her own. As the two girls lay together in a close embrace, she felt only contentment, and she listened once again to Kristen's heartbeat as it slowed from its racing beat to a steadier rhythm.

All too soon, it seemed, Margaidh's back started to ache and she hauled herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning on the wall for support.

"Mags?" Are you okay?" Kristen asked anxiously, suddenly afraid that Margaidh shouldn't have done what she did in her condition.

Margaidh nodded. "Aff," she said, with a smile. "I am fine."

_6th October 3050_

Margaidh was awoken by a groan from the upper bunk and she glanced at her watch. It was early, and still dark outside, but now she'd actually woken up she didn't feel tired any more.

Kristen groaned again and Margaidh tapped on the underside of the top bunk's mattress. "Kristen?" she whispered. "Are you alright?"

Kristen jumped down from the bunk and hurried to the little sink in the corner of the room. Margaidh heard the taps running and then the sound of Kristen being sick, and she moaned again."How much did I have to drink last night?" she muttered, rubbing her face and switching the light on and turning it down to half-brightness.

Margaidh bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Kristen, it was my fault."

"No. It was mine, for trying to keep up with you."She sat on the end of Margaidh's bunk and ran her fingers through her tangled hair, which had by now almost grown back to its original length. "Christ. I'm on early shift today."

Margaidh reached for her wheelchair, struggled to unfold it while lying on her back in the bed, then hauled herself into it. She hissed a curse as she banged her head on the bottom of Kristen's bunk.

"You okay, Mags?"

"Hmmm."She rubbed at her head, winced and looked at Kristen who was still looking ill, and struggling into her overalls. Had they really done what she thought they'd done? Or was it an illusion, the result of drinking too much?She tried to decide what she thought about it, but she couldn't make up her mind whether to be horrified or pleased with herself.Then she thought about Michael, started to worry about where she stood with him too. Margaidh remembered what he'd told her about sexual relations being more a mark of friendship than love within the Clans. _Mother of Gods, I'm getting more like them every day!_

"Penny for them," said Kristen, who was now looking hard at Margaidh.

"What?"

"Penny for your thoughts. You've been looking through me like I've a hole in my head."

Margaidh smiled. "Sorry. I was just thinking about last night."

"Oh." Kristen lowered her head with the air of someone who was about to get into a lot of trouble. "I hope I haven't upset you."

"I don't really know what to think," Margaidh replied with a shrug. "I just never expected you were…"

"A dyke? It's not something I shout off the rooftops." Kristen looked hard at Margaidh, her green eyes frowning. 

"That wouldn't exactly be the word I'd use," Margaidh replied.

"What about you?"

"If you'd asked me this time yesterday I'd have said no. Today, I'm not so sure."

"Do yourself a favour," Kristen said with a smile. "Don't worry about it." And with that she stood, kissed Margaidh on the cheek and left with a smile.

Margaidh groaned and buried her face in her hands, but beneath them she was smiling.

"I wish to report for duty, Sir," Margaidh said, her voice determined.

Domask turned round and leaned over the railing set at knee-height to a _Timber Wolf, then hurried down the ladder to the floor. His face wore a frown. "I cannot allow that," he said, shaking his head._

"I'm… I am sure there must be something I can do," she said, her eyes pleading. "Maybe not climbing gantries, but I could fetch and carry things, run errands…" her voice trailed as she failed to come up with any more suggestions. "I just need to be busy, that's all."

"Has Doctor Jordan authorised this?" Domask demanded.

"Well… not yet. But I'm sure he will," Margaidh added hastily. "He told me to exercise as much as possible."

"I believe he also warned you not to put any strain on your back," Domask added.

Margaidh just bit her lip, waiting for Domask's reply.

"Alright. I will check with Doctor Jordan, and find out exactly what you can do." He waved at the technician on the gantry, and jogged off towards the Drop ship.

For what seemed like nearly an hour, Margaidh wheeled herself nervously back and forth, until she spotted Domask returning at a purposeful stride. She studied his face for any clue as to what the doctor's answer had been, but it was emotionless. Domask came straight towards her, and knelt beside the chair.

"You may carry _light objects, and you may run errands around the base, but you are not to lift anything from the floor, and you are to stop the moment you feel even the slightest pain. Do you understand?"_

"Aff," said Margaidh, smiling broadly. "And, thankyou."

By the end of the afternoon, Margaidh was beginning to regret ever having asked. She had long ago lost count of the number of times she had made the trek from the Mech hangar to Stores and back, with various parts and components balanced on her knees.In addition to fetching and carrying for Domask, the rest of his Star soon joined in, and for the last couple of hours she was running errands for all five of them. When the shift finally ended, the muscles in her arms were burning and she was so utterly exhausted Kristen had to push her back to their room.

"You're crazy, Mags. Why'd you push yourself like that?"

Margaidh shrugged. "I had to do something. I can't just sit staring at four walls."

Kristen helped Margaidh onto her bunk, and Margaidh gave a satisfied groan as she felt soft pillows beneath her aching shoulders. "I'll get something from the mess-hall and bring it back here," she said. "They never let us eat in our rooms in the Regulars, but the Clan doesn't seem to mind."

Margaidh nodded. "Anything will do," she said. "I'm starved."

Kristen dashed off and Margaidh wriggled into the pillows, trying to get comfortable. It was then she noticed it.

_My foot moved!_

Maybe it was just because she was moving about, but Margaidh was certain she had seen her left foot give a twitch. She tried to twitch it again, but nothing happened no matter how hard she concentrated. So instead she wriggled her back again, trying to find whatever movement had caused the reflex.

There it was again. Just the slightest flexing of the ankle, but this time there was no mistake. When Kristen returned with a tray, Margaidh could hardly contain her excitement. "Hey, Kristen. Watch this."

But nothing happened. No matter what she did, or how she wriggled, Margaidh could not get her foot to move again. She gave a wail of frustration and thumped the mattress with her fist. "It moved, Kris. I swear it moved."

Kristen smiled, but it was a smile tempered by sadness. She could see the pain and frustration in Margaidh's eyes, and she could see a long and difficult path ahead.

_Visinur, Ridderkerk_

_Wolf Clan Occupatin Zone_

_6th November 3050_

When Margaidh told Doctor Jordan the next morning that she'd seen her foot move, he kept her in the Drop-Ship's sick bay for three days, just conducting tests and putting her through exercises, in the hope that it would happen again.But it didn't, at least not until a further fortnight had passed. Then Margaidh discovered that she could move her left ankle at will. Or rather, she could move it a tiny bit, very slowly and with a great deal of concentration.

By early November, she could wriggle her toes and bend her knee a fraction as well, although her right leg, weaker than the left after the break, still remained stubbornly motionless. Jordan was pleased with her progress, but it only served to remind Margaidh just how far ahead her target still remained.

As she wheeled herself down out of the dropship after a long afternoon in physiotherapy, she noticed the other five dropships had now joined their largest brother on the launch pad. Margaidh hurried back to her room, with a frown on her face.

Kristen was busy packing. "I'm glad you're here," she said, her eyes full of relief. "We have to pack. We're leaving tonight."

Margaidh frowned. "Leaving? Why?"

Kristen shrugged. "They haven't told me anything. All I know is we have to be ready by sixteen hundred hours."

Margaidh glanced at her watch, which was set at Terran Standard time, and did a swift mental calculation. The day on Ridderkerk was only nineteen and a half Terran hours long, so that left barely an hour for Margaidh to pack her own belongings. She gave a shriek of panic but Kristen put a calming hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry, I've done yours already," she said, pointing at a box on the bunk. Margaidh looked at it, and for once she was relieved that she had few posessions.As the two girls left the room, Kristen gave one last glance to the box she'd left behind on the top of the cupboard, and Margaidh saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

When Margaidh found the cabin she'd been allocated in the _Lion's Heart, not too far from the medical section, she was surprised to see two bunks and two acceleration couches. She already knew Kristen had been billeted to a different ship, and she did not look forward to doubling up with a stranger._

Kristen knelt beside the wheelchair and held Margaidh's hand. "I guess this is goodbye, for a while," she said quietly.

"It's only for seven days, until we meet up with the Jumpship."

"I know." Kristen smiled, and stood up. "I'd better go, or I'll miss my ride. See you next week." She bent, and gave Margaidh a gentle kiss on the cheek, and as she turned to go, she almost bumped into Domask Lewis who was on his way in.

When she realised it was to be Domask she would share with, Margaidh didn't know whether to feel relief or dread. Relief that it was not a stranger, but she was nervous of sharing with him, even though she knew that people of the Clans, including Domask himself, would not have seen the same implications in it that Margaidh did.

Domask helped Margaidh into her acceleration couch in preparation for launch. Drop Ships were not the most comfortable of rides, and a pilot who was in a hurry could pull up at three gees. Margaidh hoped fervently that the captain of the _Lion's Heart was in no hurry.As the Drop Ship's engines roared and the vessel raced clear of Ridderkerk, Margaidh felt a tearing pain in her back and she gripped tight to the arms of the couch, gritting her teeth against the agony.But as they came out of atmosphere and into the blackness of space, the ship slowed and the pain eased, leaving her with a throbbing ache._

"You are not in too much pain, quineg?" asked Domask anxiously.

Biting her lip, she wondered if her progress had been set back any. She cautiously tested her left ankle and toes, and they still moved, and she heaved a great sigh of relief. "Neg," she replied. "I am fine."

Domask unbuckled the straps of his own couch, then stood and lifted Margaidh back into her wheelchair. "Is there anything else you need?" he asked, frowning.

Margaidh shook her head. "I thought _I was __your bondsman," she replied, fingering at the cord around her right wrist._

"When honour demands it, the roles are reversed," Domask said, without any trace of a smile. "I will do anything to assist you, for as long as you need me. Until my death, if necessary."

She stared at him, expecting it to be some sort of joke, but his expression was deadly serious. _And what would happen to me if you were to die? Marget did not voice that sudden fear. Instead, she tried to change the subject._

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"We have orders to proceed to Rasalhague, where we shall meet with the remainder of the Alpha Galaxy. From there, we will return to the Clan homeworld of Strana Mechty."

Margaidh stared. "Why?"

"A _Grand Kurultai has been convened. A meeting of the Grand Council. Six days ago, our honoured leader il-Khan Leo Showers was killed aboard the Wolf flagship __Dire Wolf. All bloodnamed warriors of all Clans have been recalled from the Inner Sphere to return to Strana Mechty, where a new ilKhan will be elected."_

Sensing Domask's sorrow, Margaidh lowered her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"There is no need to be," Domask replied. "Il-Khan Showers was a noble warrior. Only his body is dead, his genes shall join the genepool and thus his legacy will continue, in future generations."

Margaidh smiled in sympathy. "Kind of like reincarnation, I suppose," she said. Domask frowned at her and she gave a shrug. "The Celts believed that their souls were eternal, and after death their souls would be reborn in another body. A Celtic warrior was not afraid of death, because he knew that even if his body was killed, he would be born anew."

"Is that what you believe?"

Margaidh took a long breath. "I hope it is true," she said quietly. "It is said that each time you are reborn, you will meet again with those you have loved in previous lives." Domask took Margaidh's hands in his own and she looked at him with a faint smile. _If that is true, Domask, then we two have met before._

_Nadir Jump-point, Ridderkerk_

_13th November 3050_

The fact that the Dropship was in transit did not excuse Margaidh from her exercises, and she spent most of the journey with Doctor Jordan in the sickbay for physiotherapy. For the most part it was tedious and exhausting, and Margaidh was dismayed that she seemed to be making no further progress. By the time the _Lion's Heartmet with the Jumpship Margaidh's spirits were as low as she believed they could get. Even a reunion with Kristen could not cheer her._

"It isn't going to work, Kris," she said quietly, when Doctor Jordan was out of earshot.

"But it's only been a couple of months, Mags," Kristen said, trying to reassure her friend. "It's a miracle they can even do something like this. Without the Clans, there would have been no hope for you."

"And how much more hope is there now?" Margaidh retorted. "I still might never get out of this damned chair."

"You won't if you give up trying," Kristen snapped.

Margaidh looked at Kristen as if the red-haired girl had slapped her in the face. Suddenly she was reminded of Steve McKernon, and the words she'd said to him on Black Earth, after she'd told him about her mother's accident. _If anything happens to you, don't give up. Never give up fighting.She wondered if he had survived, and if he had, what he was doing now. Maybe he was enduring some horrible torture at the hands of the Falcons, and he too was remembering those words, using them to keep going. Steve would not have given up. He would have died fighting, or else he would be fighting still._

_Once I have stopped fighting this thing, I have already stopped being a Mechwarrior. Whether I make it or not depends not on whether I recover from this thing, but whether I believe I can._

_Nadir Jump Point, Feltre_

_20th November 3050_

A week later was Margaidh's twenty-third birthday. She had made up her mind to be able to stand by then, and she worked hard to make sure she reached her target. Early on the appointed day she sat in the wheelchair in front of the parallel bars, with her heart in her mouth. She'd seen bars like these before, in hospitals where injured soldiers would slowly and painfully learn to walk again. Her mother never made it, but Margaidh was now determined she would. For both of them.

"Go for it, Mags," Kris whispered in her ear.

Margaidh nodded, and reached up to grasp the bars. As she took hold of them, she closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. Then she carefully lowered her left foot to the floor, tested it, and took a deep breath.

But no matter how hard she tried, Margaidh could not put any weight through her legs, and she did not have enough leverage to pull herself out of the chair with her arms. Kristen hovered close to her side, longing to help, and at last she could no longer bear to watch the pain and frustration on Margaidh's face. But when she reached out to help, Margaidh lashed out angrily at her.

"Don't touch me!" Margaidh snapped.

"I only wanted to help."

"Well don't. I have to do this by myself."

"I think it is time to rest," Jordan said, shaking his head. "You are exhausted."

"I can't give up now," Margaidh said, tears of frustration streaming down her face. "I will not give up."

Jordan gently but firmly lifted Margaidh's hands off the rails, and she had no strength left with which to resist him. "Rest. Try again later." His voice was stern, and Margaidh was left with no choice but to do as he said.

"Some great birthday this is turning out to be," Margaidh grumbled, as Kristen pushed the wheelchair down the corridor to the canteen.

"A cup of coffee will cheer you up."

"No it won't. The only thing that will cheer me up is to be able to celebrate my birthday by standing on my own two feet."_I'll probably still be saying the same thing on my twenty-fourth birthday, and my twenty-fifth. No. Don't dare think that. Don't give up now._

Margaidh did not give up. She tried again and again, late into the evening, and just as she thought she would pass out with exhaustion, she did it. With one super-human effort, she managed to haul herself up out of the chair. For a moment she stood there between the bars with her whole weight on her trembling arms. But there was no disputing the fact that she had both feet on the floor. She glanced sideways at Kristen, and grinned like a maniac. Then her arms gave way and she collapsed into a heap.

"Mags! Are you alright?"

Margaidh looked up at Kristen, and started to giggle. "That was one hell of a birthday present!"

_Nadir Jump Point, Dawn_

_4th December 3050_

The massive solar sail on the Jump Ship _Lion's Den slowly folded like a silvery butterfly's wing as the ship was prepared to make the last of four jumps between Ridderkerk and Rasalhague.Margaidh closed her eyes in anticipation, listening to the wail of the klaxons giving the last warning before a jump. She would have preferred not to have so much time to think about it. Although it took only a fraction of a second to make a jump of up to nine parsecs at a time, to Margaidh it felt like infinity. Hyperspace jumps always made her feel ill._

Abruptly, Margaidh felt as though she had been folded inside out and then flattened to nothing. She saw the room blink out and for a moment that seemed like an age, it seemed to Margaidh that she could see everything. Then it was over. Normality blinked back in and she fought against the wave of nausea she knew would hit her a second later.

"Urrrgh. I don't think I'll ever get used to jumps," she said to Domask as the sick feeling slowly subsided.

"Maybe you will," Domask replied, sounding as though he had felt no discomfort at all. "On the same day you finally learn to speak properly."

Margaidh felt herself flush. "Sorry."_He's right. I've really let my language slip since my accident. If I'm going to be a Mechwarrior I'll have to talk like one, as well as walk like one._

She grinned, and carefully lowered herself out of the acceleration couch and into the wheelchair. She poured herself a glass of scotch to settle her stomach, then rolled over towards the window to look at the stars.She always liked to look at the new constellastions a hyperspace jump revealed, but this time there seemed to be far more stars than there should be.

Then she realised that the stars were actually lights on a ship that held Margaidh in rapt amazement.

"It's bloody huge!"

"It is over eight hundred metres long and has a mass of almost a million tons." said Domask, "That is the _Dire Wolf."_

Margaidh watched the massive _Dire Wolf until the rotation of the __Lion's Den took it out of sight. Then she turned back towards Domask. "Will we be going on board?"_

"Aff. We will travel the rest of the way to Strana Mechty aboard the _Dire Wolf."_

Margaidh felt a surge of excitement at that. Not only was she going to the Clan homeworlds, but she would be travelling aboard the Wolf Clan's flagship, the pride of the fleet. Khan Ulric Kerensky would be there, and she wondered whether she would get the chance to meet him somewhere along the way. _If I do, I will meet him face to face, standing on my own two feet._

* * *


	7. 9 December 3050

_Aboard the Dire Wolf_

_Rasalhague_

_9th December 3050_

Since Margaidh had first struggled to her feet on her birthday, she had practised hard and two weeks later she took her first faltering steps on crutches. It wasn't much but it was progress, and for the first time since her accident, she began to have real hope for her chances of getting back into a Mech.But she still had only limited feeling and movement in her legs, and she knew that the road ahead was still a long and rough one.

After four days on the _Dire Wolf, Margaidh had almost settled into what would be her home until they reached Strana Mechty. She was astounded at the size of the place, and even though as a bondsman many parts of the ship were out of bounds, she doubted she would be able to see it all before they arrived.But since she had little else to do, she spent most of her time exploring those parts where she was permitted, and it was not long before she knew her way around as well as if she'd been there for months._

"I still can't get over how huge this place is," Kristen said to her, as she pushed Margaidh's wheelchair slowly along the corridor. The wheelchair was empty, and Margaidh was walking with much difficulty alongside on her crutches.

_Right now it feels like it's a hundred kliks long, thought Margaidh to herself, stopping for her fifth rest in ten minutes. "I've had enough," she said, reaching gratefully for the chair. She sat down heavily, passed her crutches to Kristen and rubbed hard at her aching arms._

"I have to go back now. I'm due back on duty." Kristen said. "I'll take these things back to our room." She paused. "Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?"

"I'm sure. I'll see you later."

Kristen nodded and bent to give Margaidh a friendly kiss, then she jogged off down the corridor with the crutches over her shoulder, leaving Margaidh smiling to herself. It was hard to believe that when they first met Kristen had tried to kill her. _I'm glad you're here, Kris. And she wheeled around and headed off down a corridor she had not yet explored._

Even given that she'd not seen Michael in five months, Margaidh recognised him immediately. She saw him from behind, walking with purpose down the corridor with his snake-like braid swinging between his shoulderblades. Her heart suddenly racing, she increased her pace to catch up with him, and called out his name.

Recognising her voice, Michael turned round with a smile, but when his gaze fell upon the wheelchair, his smile vanished and he turned pale. "Blood of Kerensky!" he hissed under his breath. "What happened to you?"

"It's a long story," Margaidh said with a grin. "But I think you need to be sitting down before I start."

They found a quiet place to sit in a small and otherwise empty canteen, and Margaidh told her story. Michael listened in stunned silence, holding her hands tightly the whole time. When she finished, he said nothing but just looked at her, and Margaidh thought she could see tears in his blue-grey eyes.

"I wish I could have been there for you," he said at length, in a quiet and shaky voice.

Margaidh smiled reassuringly at him. "Please try not to worry," she said. "I'm doing okay. It may be slow, but I will get there in the end."

"You are still determined to become a Mechwarrior?"

"Of course I am," she replied. "And I will be, one day."

Michael forced a faint smile, but Margaidh could sense he was not so optimistic. For a moment she wondered whether she was setting her sights too high; that she would not make it as a Mechwarrior. _I must not think like that, she told herself. __I have to believe I can do it. Anything less I could not live with._

_Aboard the Dire Wolf_

_12th December 3050 _

Margaidh idly coiled the braid around her fingers as she lay on her bunk with her head on Michael's broad shoulder.She felt relaxed and comfortable, warm from the scotch she had drunk, and from their gentle lovemaking.His eyes were closed but he was not asleep; she could feel his hands gently stroking her bare skin, his fingers passing back and forth across her shoulders and down her spine. When they reached halfway, Margaidh gave an involuntary shudder.

"I am sorry." He hastily drew his hand away. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. It just felt a little strange. Now I'm starting to get a little feeling back, it feels ticklish." She smiled, and kissed him. "Actually, I was enjoying it."

Michael resumed stroking her back, and it felt comforting enough that she started to drift off to sleep. She was awoken by the sound of someone coming into the room, and she looked up, startled.

Kristen had stopped in the doorway, her jaw dropped and a look of horror crossed her face. Then she turned around and slammed the door shut. Margaidh heard Kristen's frustrated scream from the other side of the door, and a metallic clunk as she kicked it, then her footsteps disappeared down the corridor at a run.

Margaidh groaned, and started to pull on her overalls as fast as she could.

"What are you doing?" Michael asked, confused.

"I have to catch up with Kristen. Help me with my boots, hurry."

Michael fetched her boots. "I do not understand," he said. "Why was she so upset?"

"She is jealous. She thought she had me all to herself."Margaidh swore under her breath as she hauled herself into the wheelchair. "I think you had better go back to your own room, Michael."

"I would rather go with you."

"If Kristen catches sight of you again, she'll go berserk." Margaidh blew him a kiss. "I will see you later."

For almost an hour, Margaidh searched the vast ship, trying to think of where Kristen might have gone. She found her at last, in the Mech bays, sitting on the floor leaning against a gantry ladder, hugging her knees. Margaidh could hear her crying quietly.

"Kristen? Are you alright?"

Kristen turned round, her tear-stained face suddenly contorted with rage. "Of course I'm not alright! But it's obvious you are. Go back to your lover-boy, just leave me alone!"

"Kris, please!" Margaidh reached for Kristen's hand but she snatched it away.

"I thought I meant something to you, Margaidh." Kristen glared at her. "I thought we had something special together. What is it? Fed up with being a dyke?"

Tears sprang to Margaidh's eyes, and she shook her head. "I don't even know what I am anymore. All I know is that I love you, and I love Michael, and I can't choose between you."She leaned forward and touched Kristen on the arm. She half expected Kristen to pull away again, but she didn't."I'm sorry, Kris."

Kristen narrowed her red-rimmed eyes at Margaidh. "What about us, Mags?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Margaidh sighed, and squeezed Kristen's hand. "I don't know, Kris. But I do know that I couldn't bear to lose you."

Kristen stood up and leaned on the ladder. "You should have thought about that before you let Michael into your bed." Then Kristen turned, and climbed up the ladder, knowing that Margaidh would not be able to follow her.

Margaidh poured herself a glass of scotch, offered one to Michael, and she stared at the amber liquid a while before swallowing it all in one go. The warmth of it sliding down her throat seemed to melt away her anger.

"I still do not understand," Michael complained, sitting cross-legged on his bunk and frowning at Margaidh. "The sexual habits of the Inner Sphere are almost incomprehensible. How can Kristen be so selfish that she will not allow you to share sexual relations with anyone else?"

Margaidh sighed, and rubbed her temples. "We do things differently, that is all," she said. "As far as Kristen is concerned, I should not have slept with you. And because I did, that makes me a dishonest, two-faced slut. She has every right to be upset."

"Does it upset you that I sleep with my _sibkin?"_

Margaidh shook her head. "No, Michael. I do not mind, because I know that is the way you people do things. But if I found out that Kristen had been sleeping with someone else, then I think I would be upset."

"Is that what it means to be jealous?"

Margaidh nodded.

"What will you do then?"

"I am not sure. If I don't stop seeing you, then I will lose her. But I cannot bear to lose either of you. You are both my friends." She looked at Michael, and was surprised to see that he was smiling. "What? Is something funny?"

"Neg. But I have just noticed that in the five months since I last saw you, you have become so much like us." He paused. "Stay with me tonight, Margaidh. Let Kristen cool down, and make your peace with her tomorrow."

Margaidh smiled at Michael, and wheeled herself closer, so she could hug him. "Thankyou, Michael," she whispered. "You are a real friend."

_Aboard the Dire-Wolf_

_13 December 3050_

"Did you stay with Michael last night?" Kristen asked, without looking towards Margaidh.

"Yes," Margaidh replied. "I wanted to avoid another row. I thought you might prefer to be alone." She wheeled into the room, reached for her crutches and picked them up."I wish you could understand, Kris. I don't want to lose you."

"So why don't you just tell Michael you won't see him again?"

"Because he's my friend, dammit!" Margaidh snapped, banging the crutches on the floor for emphasis. "He's my friend, and so are you, and I refuse to let either one of you go."

"Don't you understand, Mags? I don't want to share you with anyone else." She looked hard at Margaidh, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. "God, you remind me of Polly. So damned stubborn."

Leaning heavily on the crutches, Margaidh hauled herself out of the wheelchair and sat on the bunk. She patted the mattress, wordlessly asking Kristen to sit beside her. Kristen hesitated, then did so, and she let Margaidh embrace her.

"I wish I didn't have to share you," Kristen said quietly.

"It doesn't mean I love you less."

"You know something, Mags?"

"What?"

Kristen laughed. "You're getting just like them."

_Aboard the Dire Wolf_

_12 January 3051_

Margaidh lay on her back on the couch in sick bay, gritting her teeth with concentration as she lifted first one leg and then the other, while Doctor Jordan and his colleague nodded their approval. She was still frustrated by the apparent slowness of the progress she was making, but as long as Jordan was satisfied, Margaidh figured she was on the right track and that, at least, was some comfort.

"We will return later, Margaidh. Keep practising for ten minutes or so." The two doctors turned and headed off towards their private office, leaving Margaidh alone. _Hmm. If he says ten, it'll probably be twenty._

Margaidh's concentration was interrupted by the sound of someone coming into the sickbay, and she stopped her exercises to look at him. He was young, and somehow Margaidh thought he seemed familiar, though she couldn't remember where she'd seen him before. He had jet black hair and green eyes, and wore a standard clan issue grey jumpsuit, and from the way his jaw was set, it was clear he was in pain.

The young man was leaning heavily on the shoulder of an attractive woman dressed in a fancy white leather jumpsuit. Despite her white hair, Margaidh decided she was probably not much older than herself. She helped him up onto another couch and then kissed him.

"You don't have to make so much fuss, Ranna," the young man said, with little regard for formality of speech. "It's only a cut."

"Vlad would have cut your throat if you had given him the chance," the white-haired woman replied.

"Then I guess I'm lucky he missed," he said, peeling at a blood-encrusted slash in the leg of his jumpsuit.

"I will come back for you later, Phelan," Ranna said. She kissed him again and as soon as she was gone, Phelan lay back on his elbows and gave a groan. Evidently to Margaidh, the cut on his leg hurt more than he was letting on.

Margaidh sat up on the couch and looked at him, frowning. _I've seen him before… Phelan… Phelan… Yes, that's it!_

"Excuse me," she said. "Aren't you Phelan Kell?"

Phelan sat up with a jerk, not realising there had been someone else in the room. "Um, yes. Well, I was. I'm Phelan Wolf now, I just got adopted into the Clan."

He grinned, and although Margaidh did not know what he meant, she guessed it was a good thing. "Congratulations,I think," she said.

Phelan frowned. "We haven't met, have we? Because if we have, I must have forgotten you."

Margaidh shook her head. "No. I just remembered your face from the news holovids, when they announced that you'd been killed by the Clans."

"I was on the news?" He seemed not to believe her.

"Sure. Well, you are cousin to the heir of the Federated Commonwealth, quiaff?"

Phelan nodded wryly. "Aff. I don't suppose there was any news about my father, was there?"

Margaidh shrugged. _Colonel Kell was devastated. I won't forget that haunted face on the holovids. "I think he took it okay, considering." She bit her lip, seeing the pain in Phelan's face that was not entirely due to his injury. __My mother must think I am dead too._

"Well, you know who I am, so I am clearly at a disadvantage," Phelan said, smiling at her.

"I'm sorry. I'm Margaidh, formerly Lewis, from Summer. Forgive me if I don't come over to shake your hand, but I'm none too steady on my feet at the moment."

"One good leg between the pair of us, eh? Not a very good score for the Federated Commonwealth."He laughed, and Margaidh scolded herself for thinking how handsome he looked. _Stop it.Falling in love with two people at once has already got you in enough trouble. Don't go and complicate things by adding a third. Besides, judging from the way he talked to Ranna, he's already taken._

Phelan's smile suddenly became a frown of concentration. "Hang on a minute, did you say Lewis? From Summer?" Margaidh nodded. "Do you have a relative called Eleanor?"

Margaidh gaped. "My mother. Why, do you know her?"

"No, but I've heard some of the older Kell Hounds talk about her. I gather she spent a little time with the batallion shortly before my father came back in '27 and re-formed the Hounds as a regiment."

"I didn't know that," Margaidh said quietly. "She never mentioned meeting the Kell Hounds." _Blake's Blood! I was born in twenty-seven. Was my father a Kell Hound?_

"I remember them talking about a strange Mech she had," Phelan said. "A modified _Shadow Hawk, I think."_

"That would be the _Blue Skye," Margaidh said, with a sad smile. "She passed it on to me after… after she left the Seventeenth Skye Rangers, and I took the same Mech back into the same regiment. Briefly. The Jade Falcons trashed it."_

Phelan took a sharp intake of breath. Unlike most Clan Mechwarriors, Phelan was from the Inner Sphere, so he fully understood what it meant to be Dispossessed.

At that moment, the doctors returned, and since another patient was now requiring their attention, Jordan waved a hand at Margaidh, telling her that she could leave.She picked up the crutches and slipped her arms through the loops, and as she turned to say goodbye to Phelan, she caught glimpse of an anxious expression flash across his face. But it was gone in a moment, and he smiled. "I hope I see you around, Margaidh," he said with a smile and a wave.

_Aboard the Dire-Wolf_

_21st January 3051_

Margaidh looked out for Phelan over the following days, she was anxious to question him further about her mother's time with the Kell Hounds, in the hope of finding out something about her father, if indeed he was a Kell Hound. It briefly crossed Margaidh's mind that she and Phelan could possibly be cousins, but that led also to the possibility that she would then be cousin also to the obnoxious Prince Victor Steiner-Davion, so she hastily cast that thought aside.

She saw him in the canteen, as she and Kristen were searching for an empty table. Or rather, Phelan saw her first, because she heard his voice calling her name. "Margaidh! Would you and your friend like to join us?"

Margaidh smiled. "Thanks, Phelan. Um, this is Kris."

Phelan nodded, and likewise introduced Ranna, who was sitting beside him.

"How's your leg, Phelan?" Margaidh asked.

"Fine, now, thanks. How about you?"

Margaidh grinned. "I'm afraid it takes more than a medi-pack and a few days rest to fix a broken back."

Phelan paled. "God, I'm sorry, I didn't realise…"

"It's okay. I'm on the mend, slowly." Margaidh carefully lowered herself onto the plastic chair and lay her crutches on the floor. "If it wasn't for Clan medical technology, I would have been looking forward to a lifetime sitting in a wheelchair. But with any luck, I'll be getting back into a Mech."

Ranna raised her eyebrows, glancing first at the crutches and then at Margaidh's bondcord. "The odds are against you."

"I know," Margaidh replied. She grinned. "But I do not easily give up, once I have set myself a goal."

Ranna smiled faintly, and glanced at Phelan. "That sounds familiar." Then she grinned. "But if you wish to be a Mechwarrior, your chances will be improved by staying away from Phelan. He is an impudent, disrespectful whelp with a lot to learn himself. He would teach you bad habits." Ranna winked at Phelan, and despite her jibes, Margaidh could tell they were light-hearted.

"I've been wanting to ask you more about the Kell Hounds, Phelan," Margaidh said, as Kristen returned from the counter with her lunch.

"You mean when your mother was there?"

"Aff."

"Hmmm." Phelan shrugged. "Before my time, I'm afraid. I wasn't even born then. Why the concern?"

"I never knew my father. My mother always refused to tell me who he was. But I was born in late '27. I think he might have been a Kell Hound."

"Ooops." Phelan flushed. Then he grinned. "Well, it wasn't Morgan Kell, that's for sure. He didn't return until after Uncle Patrick was killed, and that was in May."

Margaidh frowned. "Did anyone in particular talk about my mother?"

"Cat Wilson, mostly. He was previously in the Tenth Skye Rangers, so I suppose they had something in common. I remember he said he admired her guts."

Margaidh's heart skipped a beat. "Could it have been him?"

Phelan laughed aloud. "No way. Cat Wilson was a confirmed bachelor. Besides, he's as black as the Ace of Spades." He noticed Margaidh's disappointment. "Look, I'm really sorry I can't help you. I just don't know any more about it. It was a long time ago, and a lot of water has gone under the Kell Hounds' bridge since then."

Margaidh nodded. "I know. Maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions." She smiled at Phelan. "Thanks anyway."

Phelan blinked at her, and for a moment, Margaidh saw an expression of surprise. "What is it?" she asked. Phelan simply blushed, and looked down at his plate. "Phelan?"

"I'm sorry, it's just… nothing."

"Phelan!"

Phelan looked at her, frowning. "It's probably nothing. Except, when you smiled I thought for a moment that you looked a little like Colonel Allard."

_Daniel Allard? Could he be the one?Mother of Gods! I wish I could go back and ask somebody!_

_Aboard the Dire-Wolf_

_In-system Strana Mechty_

_2 February 3051_

As the nausea faded away, and the universe unfolded itself, Margaidh pressed the release button to unfasten the straps on the acceleration couch, and eased herself out of it and up onto her crutches. Then she hobbled over to join Domask by the window. Far in the distance, a disk of blue-green, striated with white clouds, shone in the starlight. For a moment it reminded her of Skye, the first time she made a journey off her home planet of Summer, when she went to the Sanglamore Military Academy as a raw cadet. _Was that really only four and a half years ago?_

"Is that it?"

"Aff." Domask turned towards Margaidh. "That is Strana Mechty."


	8. 5 March 3051 (part 1)

_Clan Council Chamber, Hall Of The Wolves_

_Strana Mechty_

_5 March 3051_

With her heart in her mouth, Margaidh followed Domask Lewis down the wood-panelled corridor towards the hall where the bloodnamed of Clan Wolf were waiting in session. The rubber ends on her crutches made a squeaking noise on the shiny parquée floor that Margaidh was certain could be heard from orbit.She was reminded of the government buildings on Summer, or maybe the administration of Sanglamore Academy. It was as if corridors of power the galaxy over were fasioned this way specifically to terrify lesser mortals like herself.

Domask turned back to look at her, and when he realised he had been striding too far ahead he stopped, and waited for her to catch up."I apologise if I was walking too quickly," he said with a smile.

"No, I am fine, thankyou." Margaidh replied, concentrating on not using contractions. The importance of the occasion had been stressed in no uncertain terms, and Margaidh wanted to be sure she made no mistakes when it mattered.

"I will slow down," Domask said. "We have plenty of time."

Margaidh thanked him, but secretly wished she could get the whole damned thing over with. Already the last three days had been almost unbearable, she had barely slept or eaten since Domask had informed her that her right to become a Warrior had been challenged and that the matter must be decided before the Council of Wolves.

Domask came to a halt before a vast pair of doors bearing on them a representation of the Clan's wolf-head symbol that had been carved from massive pieces of wood in varying shades of brown and red. The wolf's eye, which Margaidh judged to be roughly twice the size of her palm, glittered with gold.

Standing guard on either side of the door were Elementals in full battle armour. As Domask and Margaidh approached they bowed to Domask as best they could in their bulky suits, and opened the doors. Although Domask had spent many hours explaining to Margaidh what she could expect, she could not contain a gasp of awe when she saw the room's interior, and for a moment her terror was forgotten.

The room resembled nothing so much as a vast theatre in the round, with tiers of seating in a circle around a large dais at the centre. There was seating on the dais for those involved in the proceedings, and central of these was a bench emblazoned with the Wolf crest, behind which was a tall, high-backed chair. On this chair was seated an imposing man with silvery hair, moustache and goatee beard. He would have looked like any other old man if it were not for his lean, athletic build and the poise of authority with which he held himself, even at rest. _He must be Ulric Kerensky, the Khan._

Aside from the Khan's bench was another for his _sa-Khan, Garth Radick, an altogether younger and heavier-built man. There were benches too for the Loremaster, whose position was something akin to a court judge, and there were also lesser positions for Advocate and Inquisitor, Council Clerk and a witness stand. All of these positions were as yet empty._

The dais itself was slowly revolving and above it hung massive screens from the ceiling which, once proceedings had begun, would show close-up pictures of those involved, so all the spectators might get a good view. And above that was the voting display, where red, black or white lucite blocks would illuminate in response to votes from the council members of 'aye', 'nay' or abstention respectively.

Margaidh took her seat beside Domask on the fourth row of benches, and waited anxiously for the hall to fill and proceedings to begin. It seemed like an age before the Loremaster tapped his gavel on the bench and stood. "The Council of Wolves is now in session," he announced. "All will be bound by this Conclave until they are dust and memories, and beyond that time until the end of all that is."

As one, the Council members and spectators spoke in response. "Seyla." The word's true meaning was long since lost in the mists of time, but Margaidh understood it to be an expression of assent, roughly translated as 'So may it be.'

"Who brings a complaint before the Council of Wolves?"Someone in the benches to Margaidh's right stood, and the Loremaster turned towards him. "I recognise thee, Star Commander Vincent. State your proposal."

Margaidh closed her eyes as Vincent came down to take his place on the dais. She did not wish to remember the day he came close to raping her, and would have done had Domask not intervened. Vincent lifted his chin and addressed the council.Knowing what was coming next, Margaidh gritted her teeth.

"I propose that bondsman Margaidh, formerly Margaidh Lewis of the Federated Commonwealth and now bonded to Star Commander Domask Lewis, be tested out to the Labourer Caste with immediate effect."

Margaidh's stomach coiled into a knot and she felt sick. If that proposal was approved, it would bring a swift end to her dreams of becoming a Mechwarrior again.

"Who challenges this proposal?" the Loremaster demanded. Domask gave Margaidh a reassuring glance and stood. "I recognise thee, Star Commander Domask Lewis."

"Try not to worry," Domask whispered, and he walked purposefully down the stairs to the dais. He took his place at a bench opposite Vincent's and he too turned to face the council. "I challenge that proposal, and propose that Margaidh remain my responsibility until I deem her ready."

Margaidh shuddered, and tried to concentrate on the formal part of the proceedings, which seemed to Margaidh to be little more than a confusing but elaborate ritual of politics. It seemed an age before the proceedings proper began, with Vincent himself taking the stand.

The Loremaster addressed him. "We have heard the nature of your case,Star Commander. Please explain your reasons."

Vincent nodded to the Loremaster and turned to face the audience."Fellow warriors, I am sure you will all understand my concerns regarding this particular case. Bondsman Margaidh has a dream of resoring the status she had as a Mechwarrior in the Inner Sphere, and despite her… ah… _setback she has maintained this unrealistic wish." Margaidh writhed in her seat as Vincent stressed the word '__setback'.She felt the eyes of those council members sitting close by looking at her, and the crutches she gripped in white-knuckled hands. _

Vincent continued his oratory. "Domask Lewis has some affection for this freeborn whelp, and despite my friendly advice, he maintains his support and confidence in her. A confidence which, I feel, is unfounded and irrational. Margaidh is untested and the only combat experience she has is defeat at the hands of the Clan Jade Falcon.She was injured as a result of her own recklessness and the severity of her injury puts in doubt any chance she might otherwise have had of becoming adopted into our Clan. I feel that a great deal of time and effort would be saved if Domask Lewis would realise now that any dream of becoming a warrior that his bondsman might have is doomed to fail, and her best interests would be served by her immediate transfer to the Labourer Caste."

When Vincent finished speaking, Margaidh heard applause from the council, and her already low spirits sank out through her boots. She waited nervously as Vincent stepped down and Domask took his place on the stand and pledged his oath as Vincent had done.

"Star Commander Domask Lewis," the Loremaster spoke. "You may state your opposition to the proposal brought before you."

Domask nodded, and his gaze swept across the assembled Clan."I first found out about Margaidh shortly after her capture by the Jade Falcons. I saw some of the battleroms from her damaged Mech and I was impressed with her performance. I admit I was also swayed by her name, and as a result of that, I approached Star Colonel Kederk for approval to challenge the Falcons for possession of Margaidh." Domask turned to face Vincent. "A request, I might add, of which our commanding officer fully approved."

Margaidh saw Vincent lower his eyes and she knew Domask had scored a point on him. Only one, how many more were needed?

Domask turned back to face the council, and Margaidh watched his face on the giant screen. "As my bondsman, Margaidh rapidly settled into her new life without complaint, and she adapted readily to our customs. Then, while stationed on Ridderkerk, she performed a selfless act of bravery in order to save me from an ambush. She sustained a severe spinal injury but in the six months since that incident she has made considerable progress. I believe that Margaidh must be given the chance to prove herself, when the time is right. She should be accorded the same rights we would give to any other worthy bondsman."

Again there was applause, from different parts of the hall, and Margaidh could not tell if the applause for Domask was as strong it had been for Vincent.

Vincent stepped forward. "Loremaster, I wish to call Bondsman Margaidh to the stand."

Margaidh took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and leaning on the crutches she struggled to her feet and started to make her laboured way down to the dais. Her appearance brought gasps from the council, many of whom knew nothing about her and who were shocked at the severity of her disability. She did her best to hold herself as upright as she could.

Domask stood and helped Margaidh up onto the dais and she sensed a thousand pairs of eyes all fixed on her as she took her place at the witness stand and sat down heavily. The clerk hurried towards her bearing a plaque emblazoned with the wolf-clan emblem, and he indicated that she salute with her right hand and place her left on the plaque. This she did.

"Do you, Bondsman Margaidh, swear on the honour of the Wolf Clan to tell the entire truth, and not to rest until justice is done in this matter?"

"I do." Margaidh tried to keep her voice steady but still it shook with fear.

Vincent stepped forwards, and Margaidh braced herself. _This is where the rest of my life is shaped."Tell the council Margaidh, what was your status before you were captured by Clan Jade Falcon?"_

"I was a junior Leftenant in the Seventeenth Skye Rangers, stationed on Barcelona."

"You were a Mechwarrior, quiaff?" Vincent narrowed his eyes at Margaidh in the same was he did when he assaulted her the first time they met.

"Aff. I graduated from Sanglamore Academy on Skye on June 18, 3049."

"So, at the time of your capture you had less than a years experience as a line officer, quiaff?"

"Aff."

Vincent smiled, and Margaidh knew even as she spoke that she'd just dug herself a very large hole. Thankfully he chose not to push her into it, and he changed the subject."You were captured by Clan Jade Falcon on May 11, 3050. Were you treated well by the Falcons?"

"Neg."That brought laughter from the council, and the Loremaster impatiently gavelled his bench to quiet them.

"Tell me why," Vincent commanded.

"I was kept in a cell and I underwent numerous interrogation sessions during which I was regularly beaten or drugged."

"And when you were transferred to Clan Wolf, and became bondsman to Domask Lewis, what was your opinion of him? And of our Clan in general?"

Domask leaped to his feet. "Objection! The advocate is asking multiple questions to confuse the witness."

Vincent raised his hands before the Loremaster had a chance to uphold the objection. "I do apologise. Margaidh, please answer my first question. What was your opinion of Domask Lewis?"

Margaidh bit her lip. "At first I was nervous of him. But I was also intrigued, because in a way it seemed as though he and I were family. As I got to know him better, I grew to consider him my friend. He took a great deal of time to educate me to the ways of the Clan."

Vincent nodded. "Margaidh, please tell the council what has become your greatest ambition?"

Margaidh lifted her head and when she spoke this time, her voice was strong. "I intend to win my bloodname."That brought a loud murmuring from the benches around the dais.

Vincent narrowed his eyes. "Why? You are not of our people, you are _freeborn. Why should you care?"_

Suddenly angry, Margaidh slammed the palms of her hands on the bench in front of her, and used her arms to haul herself to her feet. "Neg!" she said, her voice raised. "One of the first things I was taught when I came to the Clan was that I _am of your people. The moment I was captured by the Falcons I became one of them, and when Domask Lewis won the Trial of Possession I belonged to him, and to Clan Wolf. That is why I wear his bondcord.You call me freeborn as if it is an insult, and I reply that it is a pity you did not know the love of a mother as I did. In some small way, Domask has become the father I never had. I wish to wear his name, and the name of my mother with pride, and do them both honour by it."_

Margaidh glared at Vincent and then, her arms aching and her anger ebbing away, she sank back down to her seat. Vincent looked back at her with a withering, pitiful expression. "Do you realise exactly how difficult it is to win a Bloodname, quineg?"

"Aff." She smiled at Vincent, who was surprised at the speed of her response. Margaidh knew well what was required."First I must be formally adopted into the Clan, at which time I will no longer be a bondsman but will be considered a Warrior. I must then prove that rank by testing out in a Trial of Position, and then I will become a Mechwarrior."

She glanced across now at Domask, who was smiling. "There may only be twenty-five warriors bearing any Bloodname. When a Bloodnamed warrior dies,the remaining twenty-four each nominate a candidate to replace him, and the House Leader then nominates further warriors to bring the number up to thirty-one. The thirty-second slot is reserved for all other eligible candidates not otherwise nominated, who compete in a Grand Bloodname Melee. The winner becomes the thirty-second challenger. Finally, a series of one-to-one duels determine which of the thirty-two candidates wins the Bloodname."

Vincent sneered at Margaidh. "That must be difficult to accomplish, quiaff?"

"Aff," Margaidh agreed. "But one day I will accomplish it, and you will have to call me Lewis."

"How could you do that? You have not even the capability to become a warrior, much less win a Bloodname."

"I have not yet tested out, and therefore I have not yet proved my inability to become a warrior."Margaidh smiled to herself, and then at Domask._Point._

Vincent seemed flustered, and spoke again. "I feel I must draw to the attention of the council that only six months ago you sustained a broken back in a careless and irresponsible action that could easily have claimed your life."

"If I had failed, Domask might have lost his own life. I do not consider what I did to be irresponsible. Rather, it was the only thing I _could do, under the circumstances."Margaidh was reminded of the numerous times she had been brought up before the Academy Discipline Board for exactly this sort of thing. __Reckless and irresponsible disregard for standard Academy procedures… Only here, the stakes were higher._

"Would you please tell the court exactly what happened. Where was Domask Lewis?"

"He was on the Downs just outside the base, on the outskirts of the city of Visinur, on Ridderkerk. He was patrolling in his Mech, after a rumour that there was some guerilla activity going on in the region."

"The rest of his Star was not with him, quineg?"

"They were patrolling a wide area. They remained under his command but were not within visual range, or within sensor range."

"Do you not think this was somewhat reckless, especially considering there was enemy activity going on?"

_Damn you Vincent! You want me to throw Domask's own actions into doubt to emphasise the folly of mine._

"Neg," Margaidh replied. "As I said, it was only a rumour."

Vincent narrowed his eyes at Margaidh. His hate was almost tangible to her, but he kept it from his face. "While Domask was patrolling the Downs, what were you doing?"

"I often did minor technician's work for Domask. That morning I was working on a _Hellbringer that had been mothballed for a while. I was checking the computer systems and sensors, and I had taken the Mech outside so I could test it by watching Domask's __Timber Wolf on the Downs."_

"And then what happened?"

"I saw another Mech on the screen, and the computer tagged it as hostile. I feared Domask was going to be ambushed, so I took the _Hellbringer out onto the Downs to help him."_

Vincent frowned. "You could simply have called him on the Mech's radio, quiaff?"

Margaidh blushed. "Neg.You must understand, I had little experience of Omni-Mechs, other than walking them in and out of the hangars. I did not know how to operate the radio."

"So you simply charged out onto the downs, hoping to shoot the enemy down without even informing anyone?"

"There was no time. The _Shadowhawk was only a couple of hundred metres away from Domask's position. Because of the ridge he could neither see it nor pick it up on his sensors, but the __Shadowhawk could see him. But I had no intention of shooting it down. I was running on the Techs passcode, so the weapons were off-line."_

Vincent gave a shake of his head carefully calculated to show incredulity, even though Margaidh knew that he was already fully aware of what happened that day. "So what did you intend to do?"

"I decided to charge the enemy and knock it down, and that is what I did. Unfortunately I did not realise how close we were to the ridge until it was too late, and the impact caused both Mechs to fall down the cliffside. I saw the _Shadowhawk explode shortly before I lost consciousness."Margaidh felt her insides twist as she remembered the fear and the pain that was still as vivid as if it had been just yesterday._

"And when you awoke in hospital, you discovered that you had broken your back, and you feared that you might never even walk again, quiaff?" Vincent tempered the tone of his voice with sympathy, but Margaidh could see there was none in his blue eyes.

"Aff." Margaidh replied quietly."Then Domask informed me that Clan medical technology could repair the damage, and two days after the accident I was taken to the _Lion's Heart Command Dropship for the neural replication treatment."_

"And do you consider the progress you have made since then to be satisfactory? I notice you still cannot walk without relying on crutches."

_That was a cruel shot, Vincent.If I say I'm satisfied with my progress you'll remind me just how little it's been, and my dream is misguided. And if I say I am not, you'll say my dream is out of reach.Pity you've not checked up on me recently._

Margaidh smiled, and with her hands on the desk she slowly stood again. Then, with a slowness partly to make sure she didn't fall and partly to savour the look of shock on Vincent's face, she took half a dozen careful steps unaided, away from the witness box until she was standing close to Vincent. He stared, his eyes wide.

"I have been practising, Star Commander Vincent. As you can see, I _can walk without crutches, and you would have known that if you had spoken to Doctor Jordan at all during the past week or so. He is very satisfied with my progress." __Another point to me, Vincent. That one hurt as hard as if I'd thumped you with the end of a bo-staff. Or a mop-handle._

Margaidh slowly turned around and walked back to the chair. As she did so she caught a glimpse of a flame-haired woman sitting on the front row of benches in a black and red jumpsuit. Margaidh recognised her as Natasha Kerensky. Natasha grinned broadly at Margaidh, then she deftly licked the tip of her right index finger and made an imaginary tally mark in the air.When Margaidh sat down again, she noticed Vincent had turned slightly pale.

_The bo-staff is most effective when you attack with both ends, one after the other. Watch out Vincent, this one's coming right for your crotch…_

Margaidh sensed anger rising in her, and rather than letting it overwhelm she contained it and moulded it to her own purpose. "I intend to be back at full fitness soon, Star Commander Vincent, because there is still a matter of honour I wish to settle with you."

_That did it. Listen to them murmuring now._

Vincent turned to the Loremaster, his face pale. "I must object…"

"Wait," called a voice that had not spoken since the preliminary stages of the ceremony. 

Margaidh and Vincent both turned together, to look at Khan Ulric. "Let her speak. I am interested to hear what she has to say."

Vincent opened his mouth to speak again and then snapped it shut, and nodded at Margaidh. His face was a picture of hate and fear all at once, and Margaidh took advantage.

"I have noticed there is some resentment between you and Domask Lewis," Margaidh observed. She hit a nerve, because she saw him flinch. "I suspect also that although you and he are of equal rank you consider yourself to be weaker than he is."

That made Vincent burst into an apoplectic rage. "How dare you! What possible grounds can you have for an accusation like that!" he bellowed.

"It is simple," Margaidh replied. "Rather than challenge Domask directly, you decided to take your hate out on me, by attempting to rape me, and now in this inquest, by challenging my right to test out as a warrior."

There was a rush of noise from the benches and the Loremaster hammered his desk with the gavel. "Silence! Margaidh, you will justify your accusation of attempted rape against Vincent, remembering you are still under oath."

Margaidh nodded. "Yes, sir. It happened while we were based in Ridderkerk.Vincent assaulted me and dragged me into a cupboard, then he started to take off my clothes. He said if I did not do as he wanted, he would kill me. I wriggled free, and fought him off for a while with a mop handle, then Domask heard the noise and came to see what was happenning. Vincent tried to run away but Domask knocked him unconscious."

"Is this true?" The Loremaster asked, looking now at Vincent. "Remembering of course, that you too are under oath."

For a moment Margaidh thought Vincent was going to explode with rage. Then he seemed to calm down, and he slowly nodded. "Aff. It is as she tells it.I have nothing further to say."

"I have," said Domask. "First of all, I wish to make it clear that the incident between Vincent and Margaidh is independent of this inquiry. I would not like to seek advantage from it, as it is irrelevent to the matter under discussion."

Margaidh frowned. _No, Domask! Don't undo what I just did! Then she noticed Vincent looking even more horrified, and she understood. __Ah. You make yourself look stronger yet by making it seem that you do not want to take advantage of Vincent's mistake. But now the secret is out, it will not matter. Mother of Gods, this is complicated!_

Domask said, "I also wish to call another witness." At the Loremaster's signal, Margaidh returned to her seat in the audience as Domask continued. "I call Bondsman Kristen to the stand."

Margaidh stared in surprise as Kristen walked calmly to the dais. She looked composed and well-groomed but Margaidh could sense her fear. The red-haired girl sat and took her oath then looked calmly at Domask.

"Bondsman Kristen. Can you explain to the Council how you came to know Margaidh."

Kristen chewed on her bottom lip. "I was a Mechwarrior in the First Lyran Regulars, based at Visinur.When Clan Wolf captured Ridderkerk, I was captured and made Bondsman to Mechwarrior Jasmine. I was allowed to stay in my old room, and I discovered that Margaidh had been assigned to share with me."Kristen glanced up at Margaidh, and Margaidh smiled back reassuringly.

"What was your opinion of Margaidh when you first met her?" Domask asked, his voice gentle. Kristen's reply was swift. 

"I hated her."

_You tried to kill me, Margaidh thought with a faint smile._

"Why?"

"She seemed to have settled in so quickly with the Clan that I considered her to be a traitor to the Commonwealth. I never had much respect for Skye Rangers anyway, their loyalty to Tharkad was always questionable."

"And then later you changed your opinion of Margaidh. What caused that?"

Kristen looked hard at Domask. "She saved my life."Domask gave a nod, encouraging her to be more specific. He listened patiently as Kristen told how Margaidh had rescued her from the _Timber Wolf's faulty missile feeder. When she had finished she was shaking._

"What is your relationship with Margaidh now?"

Kristen bit her lip, and glanced again at Margaidh. "We are good friends," she said quietly. "Very good friends."Then she caught Domask's glance and said, more confidently, "We are lovers."

Domask nodded, and smiled at Kristen. "You visited Margaidh in hospital just after her accident. Can you tell the Council what she asked you to do?"

Margaidh stared, wide-eyed, and gripped the bench. _How does he know about that?_

"She asked me to smuggle a knife in for her." Kristen hung her head.

"Do you know why she asked you to do that?"

Kristen nodded, but said nothing. Margaidh saw her face on the screen, and her cheeks were wet with tears. "She told me she wanted to kill herself."She looked back at Domask. "She thought she was going to have to spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair, just like her mother. But she told me she couldn't bear to live like that. Margaidh is a warrior to the core, and the thought of something taking that away from her was too much to bear.She would rather die than lose that."

Domask smiled. "Thankyou, Kristen. That is all." Kristen, relieved her own ordeal was over, stood and hurried back to her seat. He stood for a while in silence, letting the emotion of Kristen's testimony play on the Council members on the benches around him. Then, when he judged the amount of tension in the hall to be exactly right, he spoke again.

"Fellow Councilmembers. The issue under discussion is whether or not Margaidh is, or may be in the future, ready to test out as a warrior, and I claim that she will. We have already seen that her first, and instinctive reaction when I was threatened, was to engage in battle in a Mech, even an unfamiliar one without weapons."

Domask left his bench and started to stride around the dais, so he could turn in directions of his own choosing rather than let the dais carry him round. Margaidh had the feeling he was directing his words to specific members of the council. 

"I have no doubt that Margaidh performed an act of great bravery and self-sacrifice, purely because she considered me to be under threat. Whethermy _Timber Wolf was or was not in danger from a __Shadow Hawk is irrelevent; the fact remains that Margaidh reacted as a warrior, and I am in her debt. _

"We have also heard how much being a Mechwarrior means to her personally, not only from her own testimony but also from her friend. I would like to add my own assurance that if we were to deprive her of the chance she so craves, we might just as well hand her that knife ourselves." He turned now to face Vincent directly, and pinned him down with a hard stare.

"Were Margaidh now at full fitness I would have no hesitation in nominating her right now for a Trial of Position.However, there is the case of her injuries. No-one, not Margaidh, or myself, or even Doctor Jordan, know for certain if Margaidh will make a full recovery from her injury. But supposing we follow the lead of Vincent and cast her aside, and then she does make a full recovery, we will never know what we lost." Domask turned now back to the Council, and once more he swept his gaze across the assembled Wolves.

"By voting against Vincent's proposal, we will be accepting the possibilty that good warriors _do from time to time emerge in the Inner Sphere. Remember we have already voted to accept Phelan Kell into our number; can we confidently accept Phelan on the one hand and then dismiss Margaidh out of hand even before she has been proven, or disproven?I urge you to vote against this proposal."_

Domask finished his speech with his fist in the air, and after a moment he turned and returned to his seat with an air of triumph. Vincent simply glared at him. The Loremaster tapped once on his desk with the gavel, and announced to the assembled Council that it was time to vote.


	9. 5 March 3051 (part 2)

_Clan Council Chamber, Hall of the Wolves_

_Strana Mechty_

_5 March 3051_

Margaidh had re-joined Domask on the dais for the announcement of the result, and she watched the flickering of lights on the coloured lucite blocks with her heart beating like a wardrum and her fingers crossed behind her back. Finally they settled and she frowned at the figures. There were 282 Ayes, 341 Nays and 377 abstentions. Margaidh frowned, and whispered to Domask.

"Does that mean Vincent wins, or you do?"

Domask grinned back. "We win," he said. "Our vote is not as high as I had hoped, but Vincent only got a third of the votes, and that is good. I think what hurt his case most was your comment that he shows his weakness by striking at you. Drawing the inquiry itself into that argument was clever. I wish I had thought of that one."

Margaidh gave a modest shrug. "I did not really plan it like that," she replied. "I just got so angry when I thought about what he did to me."

"You are perceptive, Margaidh. It is me he wishes to hurt. He and I have been rivals for many years."

When the result was called there was a cheer from half the hall and hisses from the other half, and the Loremaster called silence with his gavel. Then, with all eyes locked on him, Khan Ulric stood and looked around the hall. "Fellow Wolves, you have voted to reject the proposal forwarded by Vincent. I therefore proclaim that Bondsman Margaidh be permitted to remain in her current status until such time as Domask Lewis chooses otherwise."

The assembled Wolves intoned their assent; "Seyla."

While Margaidh and Domask exchanged a celebratory hug, Vincent was already preparing to leave. As he passed her, he stopped and fixed her with a hateful, angry stare. "Until today, my argument was with Lewis alone. But today you have made a dangerous enemy." And with that he turned on his heels and strode purposefully out through the huge double doors, leaving Margaidh with a sudden shiver running down her spine.

_Kerensky Sports Centre_

_Strana Mechty_

_6 March 3051_

Domask ran fast, his head low and the ball tucked tightly under his left arm. Moments later he crashed into a wall of Elementals but he was quick on his feet and dodged past them, only to fall to another Elemental, a woman this time, who sent him crashing heavily to the floor. To his credit, Domask did not let go of the ball. He had gained six yards and put his team just in field-goal range.

Kristen gave a cheer of delight and jumped in the air, while Margaidh's delight, though no less than her friend's, was less vociferous. She still felt drained after the trial the previous day, and had Domask not actually been playing in the football match, she would have had no interest in watching it.She'd never been a fan of the game anyhow, and the way the Clans played it was unfamiliar.

Domask, along with the rest of the Offensive team for House Lewis, jogged off the field in preparation for the Special Team to take the field goal. He sat on the bench beside Margaidh and towelled his hair. Unlike in the Inner Sphere, Clan footballers wore no helmet or body armour, and yet the game seemed just as rough. She supposed it was just another way in which they expressed their physical prowess.

"You must be crazy, trying an inside run like that," Margaidh said to him. "That defensive line must have a combined weight of over twelve hundred pounds."

Domask grinned. "They are not as fast as I am. I got six yards."

There was another cheer from the Lewis bench as their kicker put the ball neatly between the posts, and another point was notched up on the scoreboard. House Lewis was losing seven points to nine. _Only one point for the goal, and three for a touchdown. I'll have to remember that._

After the kickoff, House Lewis fielded its defensive team while House Ward's offensive team went out. _Now who do I cheer for? Phelan is playing Wide Reciever for the Wards, and Michael is Half-back._

"There is something I still do not understand about yesterday," Margaidh said to Domask. "Why was Vincent's proposal so important to him? Why should he care what happens to me?"

"Despite all I said about the issue being your potential status as a warrior, every Wolf in that hall knew the real issue was far more serious than that. Clan politics are complicated, but basically everything is a contest between the Crusaders and the Wardens. Needless to say, Vincent is a Crusader."

Margaidh frowned, and watched the play unfolding on the field. The tall, blond quarterback hung far back, almost daring the cornerbacks to take him down, and at the last minute he passed in Phelan's direction. But the pass was short and went incomplete. Margaidh could read Phelan's lips even from the sidelines, and the words he used were not pretty ones. _That damn fool of a quarterback! Phelan was well clear; if he'd passed three seconds earlier he would have caught it._

"This is all to do with electing the ilKhan, quiaff?" she asked.

"Aff." Domask replied."Ulric is the favourite, you see." He seemed disappointed at that.

"But Ulric is a Warden, quiaff? Surely that will be good for the Wardens?"

"Ulric is a Warden, but if he is elected ilKhan, a new Khan for Clan Wolf must be chosen in his place. We already have one Crusader Khan in Garth Radick, but losing Ulric would open the way for the next favourite, Conal Ward, who is also a Crusader. With two Crusader Khans sitting for Clan Wolf, and an increased majority in the Grand Council, Ulric's hands would be tied to the Crusader's cause."

Margaidh bit her lip. "But why is that so bad?" she asked.

Domask snapped her an angry glare. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"Well, the Crusaders want to re-form the Star League, quiaff? I thought that was the whole idea of the invasion."

"Aff. You are right, but there is one thing you have failed to understand. The Wardens wish to make this a peaceful transformation of the Inner Sphere. But the Crusaders will wipe the entire map with blood."

There was a cheer and Margaidh looked up to see Michael in the endzone celebrating a touchdown and another three points adding to the score for House Ward. Phelan was engaged in some heated argument with the quarterback as the Ward's offensive team came off the field and Domask got up, flexing his legs ready to re-enter the fray.

Five minutes later, he was on the floor and Margaidh watched anxiously as he received medical attention. But he wasn't badly hurt, and jogged back to the bench, his face etched with a combination of pain and irritation. He sat down beside her, rubbing his left shoulder.

"What happened?" Margaidh asked. "Are you okay?"

"Dislocated my _stravag shoulder. I will be okay. But I regret I will not be able to share in my team's defeat."_

"Never mind. I have friends on the other team."Margaidh smiled at him, and watched House Ward go on to win the game fifteen points to ten. She congratulated Michael, who had scored two of his team's touchdowns, but by the time she remembered to look for Phelan, the black-haired youth had already gone.

Michael sat down between Domask and Margaidh, and grinned at the pair of them. "Pace too fast then?" he said light-heartedly to Domask. "Looks as though half the Lewis team was past it."

Margaidh gaped at Michael's apparent lack of respect for an elder, and rose to Domask's defense. "Michael! How can you possibly speak to him like that?"

Michael frowned at her, and Domask tried to quell the fires before they took hold. "It is okay, Margaidh. Michael is probably right. I should not be playing games like this at my age."

"What age?"

Domask shrugged. "I am thirty-four years old. I have twice failed to rise any further as a warrior, and at my age I will not have another chance. Soon it will be time for me to step aside and pass my experience on to the younger ones. It is their time now, your time, not mine."

Margaidh stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. She had never seen Domask so resigned to dismal failure. She shook her head. "I cannot believe I am hearing this from a Lewis. Where has yesterday's passion gone? How can you possibly think your career is over at thirty-four? For gods sake, you're only eleven years older than I am!"

Domask looked sharply at her. "That means only that your own time is fast running out. Even if you are lucky enough to test out this year, your competitors will already have a three year advantage over you. Most Clan Mechwarriors test out at twenty."

Margaidh shook her head. "You people really are crazy. You create a whole army of perfect warriors, and throw them on the dustheap when they're only halfway there. My mother was thirty-eight when she had her accident, but she could have been a front-line Mechwarrior for a good ten years more. And if I listed all the best Mech pilots the Inner Sphere has produced over the last fifty years, not one of them would be under thirty."

Domask narrowed his eyes at Margaidh, and for a moment she though the was going to agree with her, and be less pessimistic about his own future. But instead he simply shook his head. "That is not how we do things here," he said, and picking up his towel, he walked back towards the changing rooms.

"Hmmm," said Margaidh to herself, when Domask was out of earshot. "Well, maybe it's time things were changed."

"I have wondered for some time what makes the Inner Sphere different," Michael said. "Why it is that we have an apparently flawless system for the breeding and training of the best warriors, and yet out of the Inner Sphere comes someone special, like Phelan Kell, a warrior with a remarkable grasp of tactics…" he paused, "…or yourself, with such fire and passion I have seldom seen in the Clan. Why?"

Margaidh chewed her lip. "I do not know, Michael.I wish I did.But I do not think I am as special as you think I am. There are a million Mechwarriors out there, just like me."

Michael fixed her with a hard stare. "If that is really true, Margaidh, then I fear for ourselves."

_Strana Mechty,_

_20th June 3051_

With a smile of utter bliss on her face, Margaidh lay back on the water, allowing it to lap gently over her face and feeling the sun gently warming her through.In the four months she had lived on Strana Mechty she had come to regard it almost as home, and Finnegan's Lake was her favourite place to go for some peace and quiet. During the last three weeks of particularly warm weather, it was also cool and refreshing.

The gentle calling of a water-bird disrupted her daydreaming and she opened her eyes, rolled around in the water and scanned the lakeside looking for it. Then she saw it; a slender, long-billed grey bird the size of an average goose, swimming close to the water's edge followed by a line of fluffy black chicks. Margaidh could not count the chicks because they constantly bobbed beneath the surface, but she guessed at eight or nine.

Abruptly the parent bird gave a shrill alarm cry and the babies scattered for the reeds while from the bank something, no, some_one leaped headlong into the water with a holler and a loud splash.To Margaidh's dismay, whoever it was recognised her, waved and started to swim towards her._

_Damn. There goes my peace and quiet._

Briefly she toyed with the idea of diving beneath the surface and swimming away, but she decided against it. Even at full fitness, she was not an especially confident swimmer and she did not expect to be able to out-pace her unwelcome visitor. So she trod water for a while and waited.

When the visitor got closer, she recognised Phelan, and her frown became a smile.

"Hi, Margaidh, how are you? Haven't seen much of you lately."

Margaidh smiled. "That's because I've spent most of the last three weeks in the lake. Swimming strengthens my legs, and I get to keep cool at the same time.Besides, it's quiet. Or it was until you came crashing in."

Phelan grinned, his green eyes sparkling. "I guess coming from Summer, you don't think much to this heatwave, quineg?"

"Neg." Margaidh ducked her head under the water to wet her hair, and back up again in an imitation of the little black chicks. "Hey, the vote for ilKhan was yesterday, quiaff? How did it go?"

"You wouldn't have believed it if you'd seen it with your own eyes," Phelan said, with his typical disregard for Clan speech. He started a leisurely backstroke parallel with the shore andMargaidh, her curiosity roused, swam alongside, matching him stroke for stroke.

"So what happened?"

"Well, Conal Ward and Kincaid Furey of the Jaguars tried to put the brakes on Ulric's campaign by accusing him of complicity in the death of Leo Showers. But I put them right on that one." Phelan grinned wickedly. "I told Furey he had less brains than the average _surat. After that he kind of changed his mind, I think. The vote for Ulric was overwhelming."_

Margaidh remembered Domask's warning with a shudder. "So what about the replacement Wolf Khan? From the smile on your face, I guess Conal Ward didn't get it?"

"Too right he didn't. Conal thought it was all sewn up, seeing as how he'd been elected Loremaster. But he forgot something. When he first nominated Ulric for ilKhan, he got it through by saying he was not fit to replace Ulric then. But Ulric took him at his word and chose someone else. You should have seen Conal's face after he realised he'd stabbed himself in the foot." Phelan laughed aloud.

"Well? Who got the job? Don't keep me in suspense!"

Phelan stopped swimming and looked at Margaidh, still smiling broadly. "Ulric is the ilKhan, and our new Khan is none other than Natasha Kerensky!"He nodded towards the shore where a single tall pine grew amongst scrubby willow. "Race you!" and he set off towards it at a fast pace.

By the time Margaidh reached the shore by the tree, Phelan was sitting with his back against the trunk, and his black hair was all but dry. "What kept you?" he asked.

Margaidh grinned back at him as she stood and walked gingerly up the sandy shore. "One pair of substandard legs," she replied, reaching for his hand."Say, won't Ranna be upset about you being out here with me?"

Phelan shrugged. "I shoudn't think so. She's Clan born, remember? I doubt Michael would be jealous about _you being here with __me."_

"True enough," Margaidh replied, sitting beside him and massaging her aching calf muscles. "But Kristen would."

Phelan raised his eyebrows. "Kristen? Oh, sorry, I forgot… um… I mean…" he tripped over his words in embarassment. "I think I'd better close my mouth, before I put my foot in it."

"And I think I'd better go. My clothes are four hundred metres that way, and without my walking stick, that's about as far as I can manage. I want to be back in time for supper."

Phelan leaped to his feet and helped Margaidh up to hers. "I'll walk with you, if you like." He let her slip her arm through his and gave her some support as they walked along the silvery beach. "You've improved since last time I saw you. Walking out like that in front of Vincent at your inquest, I thought he was going to have a fit."

"You were there?" Margaidh stared at Phelan, then started to laugh as she remembered the look of sheer horror on Vincent's face when he realised he'd just lost his case.

"In the viewing gallery. I thought you were great, you should have been an attorney or something."

Margaidh shrugged. "I guess it comes from having a politically-minded mother. I mean, I learned how to win debates, and turn arguments around. I thought it was more like being in a Mech, though. Chip away with those LRMs until you get a hole in the armour, then blast through it with all those lovely pulse lasers."

Phelan laughed at the analogy. "Let me guess," he said. "_Mad Dog Primary."_

Margaidh nodded. "It's a fine beastie, quiaff? I can't wait to get my hands on one of those."

"Oh, I dunno," he replied. "It runs hot for my taste. Too much to cram into sixty tons, not enough heat sinks." He paused and noticed the fixed set of Margaidh's jaw as she focussed her attention on her feet. "Oh, I'm sorry. Maybe we should change the subject."_Zap! Phelan thought to himself.__There I go, putting my foot in it again. _

Margaidh smiled reassuringly at Phelan. "It's okay. Don't worry about it." 

_Aboard the Dire Wolf_

_Nadir Jump-point, Tamar_

_5th November 3051_

Margaidh stood with Domask at the edge of the bridge holotank, leaning heavily on her aluminium walking cane.Crowded around them were dozens, if not hundreds of warriors keen to know the outcome of the proceedings that were about to unfold. At the centre, Khan Natasha Kerensky stood opposite Khan Garth Radick. She shook his hand respectfully but Margaidh noticed a wicked grin on her face as she turned to saunter confidently back to her computer terminal, while Radick walked more purposefully.

Domask leaned closer to Margaidh. "Kerensky thinks she will win this bid," he whispered.

Margaidh frowned. "I don't understand. What bid?"

"Kerensky and Radick have already assessed the defenses on Tamar. Using that knowledge, they will bid against one another for the right to command the attack. The lowest bid wins, therefore losses on both sides are minimised."

Margaidh frowned. "But if the bid is too low, the winner of the bid will lose the battle, quiaff?"

"Aff. That is where the skill lies. Watch, they are about to begin."

Radick's fingers danced over his computer terminal and a display on the wall flickered into life, displaying icons to represent his bid.Domask gave a low whistle and Margaidh asked him what it meant.

"He has chosen to play his whole hand there," Domask replied quietly. "The symbol at the top represents the Dire Wolf itself. The red star icons represent Mech Stars, the blue-silver ones are Aerospace Stars and the green ones are Elementals."He quickly counted them up. "The fool has bid four Galaxies there, including Natasha's."

Margaidh watched Natasha's wolfish grin broaden, as she replied with a bid of her own, and more icons appeared on the other half of the display. The symbol for the Dire Wolf had disappeared, along with three rows of stars. Domask grinned. "She took the Beta Galaxy out of play. That will irritate Radick, it is the one he commands."

Radick seemed unfazed by the bid, and quickly responded. On his display, the Dire wolf icon and the four top rows of stars blinked out and Natasha grinned at him. "That was brave, Radick, bidding out the Alpha Galaxy. You know it's the best."

"Not so, Kerensky," Radick replied, ignoring Natasha's famous disregard for proper speech. "Just the loudest."

Another three rows of stars blinked out of Natasha's display. Radick hesitated, then the same three rows, plus one more, blinked out also. A few warriors standing around the hall gave groans of irritation. "Why are they upset?" Margaidh asked.

"Both Natasha and Radick have dropped Delta Galaxy from their bids. That means those warriors will see no action, no matter who wins the bid. Radick is left with just his own galaxy plus two Clusters from Gamma. That must be close to the cutdown."

"What is the cutdown?"

"It is the minimum force required to win the battle. If Natasha goes much below that, she could get into trouble." Domask watched the displays carefully as Natasha pondered her next bid.

"So she would lose the battle?"

"Not necessarily. If she gets into difficulties she can call on reinforcements equivalent to Radick's last bid, without losing face." Domask paused. "If things get really bad, she can call for forces equal to her own first bid, but that would be a great loss of honour, and she would have to ask for concessions from Radick."

Natasha stood and walked across to where Ulric was watching the proceedings. She whispered something to him, he nodded and then she returned to her console. Her fingers flashed across the keys and stars vanished from her display. Both displays now showed the same number of stars.

"No good, Kerensky," Radick replied. "You must undercut my bid, not match it."

Kerensky nodded, her grin now replaced by a snarl. Two more rows of stars vanished, leaving only those representing Alpha galaxy. Then a gold coloured star appeared near the top; an icon that had not previously appeared.

"She has just bid the Golden Keshik!" Domask hissed. "That is Ulric's personal Command cluster."

Radick thumped his console, his face dark. Then he tapped again on his keyboard, and the whole of his display blinked off. "Bargained well, and done," he growled. And he marched out of the holotank without even shaking Natasha's hand.

Domask grinned and tapped at small box hanging from his belt, where a red LED light glowed brightly. "I will see action here, Margaidh. It has been too long."

Margaidh smiled back at him but inside she felt only dread.

_Once again the Wolves strike at the Federated Commonwealth. Tamar and its worlds have always been as brothers to the Isle of Skye, and I have just witnessed an auction that may seal their doom. And yet, if the Wolves lose, Domask may be killed.I feel at home among these people, but my roots are on Summer. No matter what I hope for, I will be a traitor._

_Tamar_

_11 November 3051_

The battle for Tamar started on November 7th . It may have gone better for Duke Kelswa had he not been insane.The Clan invasions which had attacked mostly Tamar Pact worlds close to the Rasalhague border had convinced the Duke that the Clans were really in the pay of the Federated Commonwealth, and that their aim was to destroy the Tamar and Skye Separatist movements spearheaded by Ryan Steiner.

So when he was told in mid-October that there would be no reinforcements for the 26th Lyran Guards that defended the planet, he had a massive wall built around Tamar City, shutting the Guards outside and the Duke inside. Kelswa was certain his own bodyguard, plus the cadets from Tamar Academy, could defend the city without assistance from the Commonwealth. He was wrong.

In three days the 26th Lyran Guards were repeatedly pushed into retreat, and on the fourth, they fled offworld. Kelswa, convinced only his own guards could defend the city, refused to flee with them.During the night, Alpha Galaxy surrounded the city and by the morning of November 11th, Duke Kelswa's impenetrable wall had been reduced to rubble.

The 328th Assault Cluster was ranged on the north side of the city, and when Kederk gave the order to advance, Domask Lewis took a deep breath and led his Star through a breach in the wall.He allowed himself a faint smile as he glanced across at the Mechs that marched with him. After Lutharin's fast, forty-ton _Phantom, the next lightest was his own __Timber Wolf.Mechwarriors Frieda and Binnet looked like twins in their eighty-ton __Gargoyles while at the rear lumbered Mechwarrior Grace in her vast hundred-ton __Dire Wolf. _

_They do not call us the 'Heart Stompers' for nothing, Domask thought to himself._

"Charlie Five to Charlie Leader," a voice crackled in the speakers inside Domask's neurohelmet.

"Roger, Lutharin. What news?" Domask replied.

"We have company, Sir." 

When the four assault Mechs rounded the corner to join the _Phantom,Domask was almost certain he could see the four Mechs of the Kelswa Bodyguard tremble with fear. Quickly assessing the strengths and weaknesses of each one, he raised his own Mech's arms and opened fire at a __Victor with both his large lasers. Armour sizzled on the __Victor's torso, and it replied with a volley from its own gauss rifle with a blow that rocked the __Timber Wolf on its feet._

It was not long before Domask realised that the fight would not be as easily won as he had hoped. Kelswa was a man of influence, and over the past year since the Clans' withdrawal to Strana Mechty, he had managed to aquire the best and most up-to-date equipment the Inner Sphere could produce. Moreover, lessons in tactics had been learned that went a long way to negating the Clans' technological advantage. Part of that lesson taught Kelswa to fight in the city where the Wolves had no range advantage. And the rest convinced the Wolves that the Inner Sphere truly were barbarians.

Just as the last of the _Victor's four companions was destroyed by a volley of SRMs from Binnet's __Gargoyle, Lutharin gave an alarmed squawk. "Watch your back, Lewis!"_

Domask turned his _Timber Wolf to see a __Griffin racing towards him, bearing the crest of the Tamar Academy on its chest. Its PPC spat blue fire, slicing armour from the __Timber Wolf's back, but even as it advanced closer than the PPC's effective range, the __Griffin continued to advance towards Domask at a run, firing indiscriminately._

_Blood of Kerensky! The crazy surat is trying to charge me! _

No longer able to fire its weapons effectively, the _Griffin raised both arms in readiness for a punch. Domask was reluctant to engage hand-to-hand with the __Timber Wolf; since it posessed only large guns instead of hands it was not built for punching. However, it could still fire those guns, even at close range, and this Domask did._

As the lasers ate through the _Griffin's armour and penetrated to internal structures, it seemed to Domask as though he watched the horror in slow motion. The moment he realised what was happening, he back-pedalled his Mech as fast as he could. __I have to get away from the Griffin! _

The _Griffin seemed to momentarily shudder, and then its torso cracked like a hatching egg as the explosives with which it was packed were detonated by Domask's lasers. A second after the first fireball belched forth, a second ripped the __Griffin apart as the reactor shielding was breached and the engine exploded. The blast sent Domask's Mech sprawling backwards, and all that remained of the cadet's Mech was a rain of smouldering fragments._

_How can they call us savages, when they send these cadets, little more than boys and girls, out to die in such a callous manner? They bathe themselves in their children's blood._

Domask Lewis gritted his teeth, and forced his now-tattered _Timber Wolf to stand."If children will die today, it is my duty to ensure they die with dignity."_

With his spirits low, Domask cursed under his breath as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The 328th had been badly hammered by the Kelswa Guards and the cadet's honourless suicide charges, and they had been driven back through the walls while the rest of Alpha Galaxy fought its own battles in other parts of the city.

Tamar was fast turning into a bloodbath, and not all of it belonged to Tamar cadets. Already, Lutharin had been forced to eject from his Mech, Binnet and Grace had both withdrawn due to injury and Mech damage, and Domask was beginning to wonder just how much longer he could continue before exhaustion got the better of him. His only consolation was that Vincent's star had suffered almost as badly.

_I am too old for this!he thought bitterly to himself. __How Inner Sphere warriors can keep going into their forties and fifties, I will never understand. _

Domask only just heard Mechwarrior Frieda's whispered"Blood of Kerensky! What is that?"

_That was an __Atlas, the largest and supposedly deadliest Mech in the Inner Sphere. It was silhouetted against the setting sun and orange sky, and around it, Domask could see Elementals, looking as tiny as moths against the bulk of the __Atlas.As it strode towards the waiting Assault Cluster, Domask heard a voice in his headset._

"I am Duke Selvin Kelswa of Tamar. You Clanners have… upset me. Now… _get the hell off my damn planet!" The last was uttered at a loud screech._

"I shall teach this idiot a thing or two," Vincent said, striding towards the _Atlas in his own __Gargoyle.He addressed Kelswa directly."I am Star Commander Vincent. I advise you to surrender."_

"Never!" Kelswa snapped back, making the _Atlas shake a fist at the Omni-Mech. "Neither I nor Tamar will surrender to you."_

"Then you are a fool," Vincent replied, letting loose with both LB-X Autocannons, showering the _Atlas with clusters of exploding shells._

The duel was a long one, and Domask was surprised at how well matched the two Mechs were, despite the age of the _Atlas.Gradually it became clear that the __Atlas was going to win, and Domask started to wonder if Vincent was not as insane as Kelswa himself.He manouvered his __Timber Wolf in closer and armed his lasers._

"Back off, Lewis!" Vincent warned. "This is my battle, not yours."

"No chance, Vincent. If you had half the brains of a surat, you would allow me to assist you." Domask grinned, knowing how much Vincent hated being compared to a semi-intelligent flying monkey.

"I do not need your assistance!" Vincent replied. "Stravag!" he cursed a moment later, as another blast from the _Atlas' massive autocannon ripped off the __Gargoyle's left leg, sending it crashing to the floor._

"You may not be my best buddy, Vincent, but I do not wish to see you die." And with his fingers on the triggers, Domask let loose with everything the _Timber Wolf had. Heat indicators soared up into the red zone and Domask knew he would not be able to fire the weapons again until his Mech cooled. __Please, make it count!_

Thirty out of forty long-range missiles peppered the Atlas' back while two large and two medium lasers ate into internal circuitry. Domask could smell the telltale bitter odour of a burnt-out gyro and he watched as the Atlas toppled like a felled tree. The moment the great monster hit the floor it erupted in a ball of flame, leaving Domask blinking against the sudden light.

As soon as he was able to see once more, he looked for Vincent, and saw him standing on the chest of his fallen Mech watching the dying flames in the Atlas' shattered hull. Domask popped the canopy of his own Mech, unrolled the ladder and climbed down.

"It looks to me as though you need a ride home," Domask said with a grin.

"I never asked for your interference, Lewis," Vincent snarled.

"I never expected you to," said Domask with a smile. "But I have learned some important lessons from the Inner Sphere. Sometimes, my friend, living hurts more than dying." He stressed the words _my friend, making Vincent flinch."You owe me now, Vincent. You may be a bright young hotshot, but you will remember always that if I had not interfered you would be dead."_

"I will make you suffer, Domask Lewis!" Vincent hissed.

Domask shook his head. "You have years ahead of you, if you are not so stupid you throw them away. My career is coming to its end. There is nothing you can take from me now."

Vincent frowned, then gradually, a smile spread across his face. "You have nothing, quineg? I believe you are wrong. There is one thing I can take from you, that will hurt you more than you can imagine."

Domask frowned, then suddenly paled as he recognised the hungry look in Vincent's eyes.

"Ah, I see you understand, _my friend. Your greatest weakness is your sympathy for the freebirther. Be careful when you send her into the field of battle, Lewis. You had better be certain she is ready, because I will be waiting for her."_

* * *


	10. 13 November 3051

_Jump Ship Dire Wolf, Assault Orbit_

_Tamar_

_13 November 3051_

Six days after the battle began, the jewel of the Tamar Pact lay in the Wolves' hands.But the cost had been high. Nine Mechwarriors were dead, including one fromVincent's Star, as were six pilots and almost twenty Elementals.Over three times that number returned injured. But the losses to the Wolves were nothing to the carnage the Tamar defenders had suffered. Of eight hundred cadets at the Academy, less than a hundred lived long enough to surrender, and not one of the Kelswa Guard had survived.

Margaidh waited in the Mech Hangar as the warriors returned, their Mechs limping and battered, their own faces haggard. With her heart pounding she watched for any sign of Domask but when he finally did emerge she barely recognised him.He walked slowly and stiffly from spending nearly six days solid in his Mech, and his face looked pale and haunted against his dark hair. His eyes that normally burned with the familiar Lewis fire seemed empty.

Behind him walkedVincent, looking equally stiff and sore.As he walked past where Margaidh was standing, his eyes met hers for a moment, and his face formed a mask of hate. Then as she tried to fight against the shudder that rose up inside her, he turned and walked away without a word.

"Margaidh!" Domask lifted his arm to wave, and dropped it again heavily, the effort of even that small gesture more than his body could bear.

Margaidh hurried to him as fast as she could manage, and leaning with her left hand on her cane she slipped her right arm around Domask's waist and felt him sag slightly. "Domask? Are you alright?"her face was etched with concern.

"I will be, after I have showered and slept."He smiled. "Do not worry about me, Margaidh. I am unhurt."He held himself straight, to avoid putting any extra weight on her, and let her walk slowly alongside him back to his room.

After Domask had showered, he lay outstretched on his bunk while Margaidh sat beside him, gently massaging his aching shoulders. She smiled as he gave a groan of pleasure and closed his eyes. After fifteen minutes or so, he rolled over and opened his eyes again, and touched her cheek with his finger.

"Would it be… improper… for me to ask you to make love with me?" he asked quietly.

Margaidh stared, and for a moment she could not speak. Instead she just bit her bottom lip, and nodded. 

Domask sat up and rubbed at his temples. "I am sorry, Margaidh. I respect your customs, and I will not ask again."

"You do not have to be sorry, Domask," Margaidh replied. "And please do not think that I do not love you, because I do."

Domask frowned. "But is not sex an expression of love among your people?"

"There are many different kinds of love, Domask. Some kinds are connected with sex, and some are not." Margaidh leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I _do love you, but I could no more make love to you than I could make love to my own mother."_

The Mechwarrior stood and ran his fingers through his black hair. Then he picked up a clean pair of shorts and pulled them on to cover his nakedness. Margaidh could almost feel his disappointment and her mind raced as she tried to think of something to say that would change the subject and break the tension.

"I noticed thatVincent looked unhappy as he came on board. Did something happen to upset him, quiaff?"

Domask turned to face Margaidh, his eyes now bright with amusement. "Aff. I saved his ass, and he was not in the slightest bit grateful."He told Margaidh what had happened during the duel with the _Atlas, and about the words they had exchanged afterwards. Margaidh shuddered when he spoke of Vincent's direct threat to her._

"Do not be concerned, Margaidh. I will not let him harm you."

Margaidh took a deep breath and picked at a loose thread on the blanket. "Why does he hate you so much, Domask? What happened between you?"

Domask shrugged. "He knows I am better than he is, and he is envious."

Margaidh studied his face, and she shook her head. "I do not buy that one, Domask. There is more to it than that, quiaff?"

He snapped his head round and glared at her, then the anger vanished and he nodded. "Aff. There is much more to it than that.Vincent is of my bloodline, Margaidh. In actual fact, he is my brother, although he is seven years younger than me, and we were not raised in the same sibko."Domask gave a slight frown. "Five years ago, a Lewis bloodline came free, and we were both nominated for it. Vincent thought I was too old, I thought he was too young." He grinned. "I beat Vincent in the first round, and went on to win the name.He has never forgiven me. He still harbours the misconception that I was lucky, and thinks if he had won our duel, he would have won the name instead."

Domask sat down beside Margaidh on the bunk, and put an arm around her shoulder. "Margaidh, when you test out for your Trial of Position, it is likely Vincent will request permission to stand against you. It will be certain his aim will be not merely to defeat you, but to kill."

Margaidh felt a shiver run down her spine, then she gave a weak smile. "I may not ever reach a Trial of Position, Domask."

Domask grabbed hold of her shoulders, as if to shake her. "Do not say that!" he hissed. "Do not even think it! If you think like that, you _will fail, and Vincent will have won." He relaxed his grip. "I know you will succeed. Not this year, maybe not even next year. But someday you will become a warrior, and you will win your bloodname. I shall be standing beside you as you do."_

Margaidh felt tears spring to her eyes and she threw her arms around Domask's shouders, holding him tight. He returned the embrace. "I do love you, Domask," she whispered. "And one day, I will make you proud of me."

_Aboard the Dire Wolf_

_Memmingen, Assault orbit_

_20 November 3051_

"Happy birthday, Mags."

Margaidh rolled over in bed, barely awake, squinting against the light. Kristen was already up and dressed, and she was holding something in her hand. As Margaidh gradually became accustomed to the light, she saw it was something vaguely cylindrical in shape, roughly a third of a meter high, and wrapped in gaudy red and silver shiny paper. A golden bow at the top finished the effect.

"What time is it?" Margaidh asked, squinting at Kristen.

"Time to get up and open your birthday present," Kristen replied, holding the gift on outstretched hands.

Margaidh sighed and sat cross-legged on the bunk, reaching for the present. "You know, all this does is remind me I'm another year older."

"Now you sound like some middle-aged frump. You're only twenty-four."

"Still four years older than Phelan, five years older than Michael and one year closer to being too old to test out as a Mechwarrior."She took the gift and it felt heavy. Margaidh recognised the feel and balance of the cylinder, and a broad grin spread across her face. "I think I know what this is," she said, excitement creeping into her voice.She ripped off the paper, read the label on the cardboard tube underneath it and gave a scream. "Real Skye whisky? Where in the name of God did you find this?"

Kristen grinned. "I went shopping on Engadin, just before we left for Tamar. Actually it was easier to find than I thought."

Margaidh slid the bottle from its tube, unscrewed the top and sniffed the amber liquid, closing her eyes as the aroma teased her with its scent.

"Of course, Mags, since it smells so good you could always use it as cologne."

"That, Kristen, would be a heinous waste." She capped the bottle once more and slipped it back into its case."I will save this for a special occasion."

"Your birthday is a special occasion. Remember this time last year? Taking your first steps after the accident?"

Margaidh smiled at her friend, but the smile was now tinged with sadness. "I remember. And I remember thinking that it wouldn't be long before I was back in a Mech. But a year on I'm still walking with a stick, and I still don't have half the strength in my legs that I used to have."

Kristen put a comforting arm around Margaidh's shoulder, and with her free hand wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "Hey, Mags, don't cry.Not on your birthday."She gave Margaidh a squeeze, and Margaidh nodded, taking a deep breath and smiling back at Kristen.But Kristen's eyes too had tears in them.

"Kris? What is wrong? I hope I didn't upset you."

Kristen shook her head. "It's… nothing," she said, abruptly standing up and turning her back on Margaidh.

"So why are you crying about nothing?"

Kristen reached for a noteputer on the desk, called up a message on it, and passed it to Margaidh. "I didn't want you to know, not on your birthday. I was going to tell you tomorrow." Kristen's voice was trembling.

Margaidh read it, her eyes wide with surprise. "You've been adopted as a Wolf? Already? Kris, that's great!"

"No it isn't, Margaidh. Read the rest of it.I've been adopted into the Technician's caste, not the Warrior's."

Margaidh felt a sudden jolt, as though she'd just been dropped through a hole in the floor. "They won't even let you test out?"

Kristen bit her lip. "Actually, Mags, I volunteered for this. I decided not to test out."

Margaidh frowned, not believing what Kristen was saying. "But you're a Mechwarrior, Kris. Why are you throwing it away like this?"

"I was a Mechwarrior, once." Kristen turned and gazed out of the window towards the stars. "Until the Clan invaded Ridderkerk, I thought I was a real soldier. I thought I was really making a difference somewhere. And then, suddenly, everything changed. Instead of just exercises and routine patrols, it was the real thing."She turned back to face Margaidh and her eyes were full of fear and disappointment.

"Suddenly, it wasn't a wargame anymore. I never believed I could get as scared as I was that day. And then when I found Polly's _Valkyrie all smashed up, and I opened the cockpit to get her out…" Kristen's voice trembled. "I couldn't even tell it was her without looking at her dog-tags."_

Kristen sniffed, and this time it was Margaidh's turn to offer a comforting hug.

"Polly died for nothing, Mags. Nothing she did made a difference.I don't want to think that I might die in some futile battle that doesn't make a difference." She gave a half-hearted laugh. "Maybe that makes me a coward. Playing wargames was fine, I just don't think I'm cut out to be a real soldier."

Margaidh shook her head in disbelief and Kristen smiled at her, a smile that Margaidh though looked more like a brave attempt to appear cheerful. "Hey, I'm not such a bad spannerjock, you know. Don't worry about me."

The two girls, both fighting tears, held each other tight. Margaidh closed her eyes and saw images of the last battle on Black Earth._I understand your fear, Kristen. War scares me too. But what scares me more is not having the chance to try and make a difference. I would rather die knowing that at least I had that chance._

_Aboard the Dire Wolf_

_Satalice_

_15th January 3052_

Margaidh closed her eyes and concentrated on the treadmill's gentle electric hum, to take her mind off the painful burning sensation in her legs and lower back.She was determined not to give up but it took every ounce of her willpower to keep pounding away at the treadmill until she heard the quiet click.

Her companion Thalia, with her thumb on the stopwatch button, smiled. "Okay, time is up," she said. "Ten minutes rest, then back onto the multigym."

Margaidh stifled a groan and looked at her companion. Although Margaidh herself was tall and well-built for a woman, Thalia Tutola stood a good half-meter taller and weighed nearly a hundred pounds more. Yet even despite her great size, Thalia was still athletic and well-proportioned. Margaidh had often wondered that female Elementals still managed to look feminine, even though they towered above the average man.

Thalia grinned wickedly at Margaidh, her teeth showing bright white against her ebony skin. "You are doing well, for a freebirth," she said. "I think you would not have progressed so far without your natural strength."

Margaidh smiled back, or tried to. Normally she would have agreed with Thalia's comment, but at that moment she felt as though all her strength had been sucked out of her. "Maybe I should be testing out as an Elemental instead of a Mechwarrior," she joked as she stepped down from the treadmill and sat beside Thalia on a low bench.

"You are not _that strong," Thalia replied, her expression now serious. "I would estimate your chance of success as an Elemental at approximately nil."_

"While my chance of testing out as a Mechwarrior is about double that," Margaidh snapped back. Thalia frowned, the sarcasm lost on her. "Never mind, Thalia, it was a joke."Briefly, though, Margaidh wondered whether that comment made in jest could be right. Her strength had increased since her training with Thalia had begun four weeks ago, but not enough for Margaidh's satisfaction. More worrying, however, was that she still lacked the fine control and co-ordination that was required to operate a Mech.

She absently fingered the small fragment of armour from the _Blue Skye that hung on a thong around her neck. It was a common custom among Inner Sphere Mechwarriors to keep such a talisman from a beloved but destroyed Mech, or perhaps a scrap from a particularly significant kill. Some said that the Mech Charm brought good luck in battle, but it reminded Margaidh only of what she had lost. Not just the famous family __Shadow Hawk, but other things too. Friends alongside whom she'd fought, and watched die at the hands of the Falcons. Her mother, and her home, neither of which she expected to see again. And the dream of being a Mechwarrior, which had burned strong inside her for more than half her life._

_But this Mech charm represents more than simply what I have lost. It symbolises what I can achieve. The Blue Skye was wrecked beyond repair, but I was not. It reminds me that as long as I do not give up on my dream, it can come true. _

Margaidh narrowed her eyes at her companion. "Thalia, what would you do, if you could not be an Elemental anymore?"

"I would be transferred to another Caste, as was appropriate to my abilities, and I would be happy to serve my Clan in whatever way was required of me."

Margaidh shook her head. "I do not believe that," she said. "I do not believe you would be happy. I think you would be very unhappy, that you could no longer do what you had spent your whole life training for."

Thalia looked hard at Margaidh, her dark eyes flashing with a moment of anger that vanished equally quickly. "Aff," Thalia said quietly. "I believe you are right."She gave a little smile. "When I was first assigned to your training programme, I was offended. I could not understand why you would work so hard for something so difficult to attain, and your obsession with it was… amusing. But I think I understand why you feel that way."

After a further hour of training, followed by a long, hot shower, Margaidh headed back towards her room, and met Michael half-way. He was wearing a Mechwarrior's cooling suit, with the overjacket unfastened, and an anxious expression on his face that melted into a smile when he saw Margaidh.

"I have been searching for you, Margaidh," he said. "I have some news."

"Good news or bad?" Margaidh replied, falling into step beside him.

"Both, I think. I have just finished a training session in the simulators with Khan Kerensky. She told me that I will be permitted to take my Trial of Position in five months."

With a broad smile on her face, Margaidh gave Michael a hug. "That is great news. Congratulations. It will be a year early, quiaff?"

"Aff." Michael lowered his head, and pulled away from Margaidh's embrace.

"What is wrong? Are you not happy?"

"My trial will be held on Strana Mechty. I will be leaving here the day after tomorrow."

The smile dropped from Margaidh's face. "Leaving? When will you be back?"For a long while, Michael said nothing, and Margaidh felt her stomach knot with sudden fear."You're not coming back, are you?"

"I do not know. If I fail, I will remain in the Clan homeworlds. If I succeed, I may be assigned to any part of the Clan's miltary forces. It is likely that we will never see one another again."

Margaidh shook her head, blinking back tears. "Sure we will, Michael. Our paths will cross somewhere, I am certain of it." But she knew that was a lie. The Clan's homeworlds were a long way off, and even if Michael did return to the Inner Sphere, the area occupied by the Wolves was so vast they could live a lifetime there and never meet.

_Aboard the Dire Wolf_

_Out-transit orbit, Satalice_

_17th January 3052_

Margaidh spent as much of the next two days with Michael as she could spare, but since they were both involved in heavy training schedules, there was precious little spare time to be had, and the moment of his departure crept upon them all too quickly.

"Don't leave yet," Margaidh pleaded as Michael sat up in the bed, and reached for his clothes. "Make love to me again."

Michael shook his head. "There is no more time. My Drop Ship leaves in less than two hours. If I do not go now I will miss the shuttle."

For a moment Margaidh wanted to make him miss that shuttle, so he could not go back to Strana Mechty and leave her behind. But she knew that would be impossible. The Trial of Positionwould be the most significant moment of Michael's career, and success meant as much to him as it did to her. Much as her heart longed to stay with him for ever, her head knew that the time had come to let him go.

She sat up in his bed and kissed the back of his neck. "I will miss you, Michael."

"I will miss you too." He turned back to face her. "I do not know much about what it means to be in love, but I think I am in love with you."

Margaidh forced herself to smile, then she quickly slipped the Mech Charm over her head and put it around Michael's neck. "I want you to have this."

Michael fingered the armour fragment. "This is all you have left of your family's Mech. I cannot accept such a gift."

He started to take it off again but Margaidh put her hands on his and stopped him. "Please, take it."She paused. "If you cannot accept it as a gift, consider it a loan. Look after it for me, until we meet again."

"But…" Michael began to protest, but Margaidh silenced him with a kiss.

"The charm will bring us back together. As long as you have it, we cannot help but meet again."She closed her eyes to stop herself from crying, but even as she spoke the words, she knew them to be true. Like an ancient magical spell, the speaking aloud of the words, and the belief in them, made the magic real.

Michael smiled at her, and closed his hand around the charm. "If that is the case, then I shall guard it as though my life depended upon it."

"I love you Michael."

"Goodbye."

"Until we meet again."

_Aboard the Dire Wolf_

_Hyperion_

_16th February 3052_

After Michael's departure, Margaidh threw herself into her training with even more determination than she had before.But no matter how much progress she made, or how often Kristen scolded her for pushing too hard, Margaidh always had the nagging feeling that it was not enough. _A hundred and twenty percent, the doctor had told her, almost eighteen months ago. __So a hundred and twenty percent it will have to be._

So Margaidh spent most of her time in the gymnasium, sometimes with Thalia's supervision and sometimes alone.On this particular afternoon, she had expected Thalia to be there but she was not. When she saw the pair of suited Elementals enter the gym, she assumed one of them was Thalia. _She must have forgotten her own duties, and come to let me know._

But as the two Elementals approached her, Margaidh realised they were painted in the wrong camouflage colours, and bore an insignia on the helmet that was horribly familiar.

_Jade Falcons! What in the name of god are they doing here?_

One of the Elementals stopped in front of Margaidh, while the other one held a little way back, closer to the door._Blocking my escape!What the hell is going on here?_

"You are Margaidh Shelagh, of the Lewis line?" the Elemental demanded.

Margaidh frowned. It had been two years since anyone had used her full name, and for a moment she wasn't quite certain whether to say yes or no. The Elemental repeated the question, the tone of his voice becoming more irritated.Margaidh simply replied "Aff."

"You will accompany us."

The Elemental did not even give her the opportunity to change her clothes. He simply turned and marched stiffly out the way he had entered, leaving Margaidh to hurry after him. As she left the gymnasium, the second Elemental fell into step behind her, sandwiching her between the two armoured warriors.

A hundred thoughts were racing through Margaidh's mind, and none of them were pleasant. She could only surmise that the Falcons had a grievance against her, and placed her under arrest, or else they had somehow reclaimed her, and were taking her back to their own worlds. That thought made her blood run cold. _Domask, where are you? For god's sake, do something!_

The Elementals led her to a lift, where a third was waiting. With the three of them crowded together, there was barely room for Margaidh, and she wondered what kind of trouble she might be in, that required three suited Elementals to bring her in.

The lift stopped on one of the decks where only warriors were permitted, and Margaidh fingered nervously at the bondcord around her right wrist. Maybe they were bringing her to some kind of secret trial. _Why don't they tell me what I'm supposed to have done? Does Vincent have something to do with this? Has he finally got rid of me, without Domask knowing about it?_

As the lift doors opened, Margaidh craned her neck to see past the Elementals but she saw nothing that might give any clue as to where on the _Dire Wolf she was, or why. All she could see was a plain grey corridor much like any other. She followed the two Elementals out of the lift, while the third stayed close behind.They marched together until the front pair came to a plain, unmarked door, and opened it. Then the Elemental behind pushed her sharply in the back. Unbalanced, Margaidh stumbled into the room, and almost fell. The door swished shut behind her, and she was left in absolute darkness._

Margaidh cursed aloud and started to feel her way around the room. It was smaller than the cell in which the Falcons had kept her prisoner, and completely unfurnished. Still dressed in her close-fitting bodysuit she was wearing in the gymnasium, she shivered as the cold air chilled the sweaty garment. With a faint moan of despair, Margaidh sank to the floor and hugged her knees, fighting against a feeling of sheer terror.

Abruptly, another door opened, in the wall opposite the one by which Margaidh had entered the room, and she was dazzled by sudden light. Someone stood silhouetted in the doorway, and hurrying to her feet, Margaidh squinted aganst the brilliance, trying to see who it was.

The figure was dressed in what at first looked like a Mechwarrior's outfit, except that it seemed to be made for ornamentation rather than practicality. The boots were of polished silvery metal, the mesh undersuit seemed also to be silverish, and the overgarments were not of the normal camouflaged ballistic cloth but of a glossy grey leather decorated with spirals of a darker grey so that it resembled stylised fur. Over that, the warrior wore a short cloak of what Margaidh supposed to be real wolf's fur, fastened with a silver clasp in the shape of the familiar Wolf Clan insignia.

Other than that the Mechwarrior was a man, she could not identify him, because his head was covered with a stunning mask, the likes of which Margaidh had never seen before. It was made in the shape of a wolf's head, cast in the same silvery metal as the warrior's boots and decorated with enamel, making the same pattern of spirals as on his jacket. The wolf's mouth was open, exposing brilliant white teeth, but it seemed as though it were grinning rather than snarling.There was something about the grin that seemed sinister rather than comforting, and it sent a shiver down Margaidh's spine.

Margaidh opened her mouth to speak but the wolf-faced warrior lifted his hand in a gesture that called for silence. Then, without a sound, he gestured for her to approach him.As she took a step towards him, the light illuminating him blinked out and, startled, she stopped. A moment later another light came on, a few yards further ahead, and the masked warrior was illuminated beneath it.

Again he gestured for her to follow, and Margaidh began to realise that this was some kind of ritual. She recalled the rituals of politics in the trial on Strana Mechty a year before, and wondered if this was something similar. Her heart pounding hard, Margaidh stepped into the darkness towards the only source of light shining on the grey-clad warrior.

As she approached close to him, Margaidh heard a metallic swish from the darkness on each side, and the sound of metal boots on the floor. With lightning speed, the warrior's hands shot out and up to either side and she saw then the blades of swords barely a centimeter from each palm. Then he nodded at her, and just as the light vanished once more she thought she saw a glimpse of his eye through the mask's blank socket.

Somehow comforted by that, Margaidh ducked under his arm and ran forwards into the darkness, as she heard the sound of the two swords continuing their arc, slicing through just where she had stood a moment before.In the darkness, she heard the grey-clad warrior passing by her, but her attention was occupied by a more urgent sound; of the metal boots to either side of her.

Instinctively she tucked and rolled to the left, and she heard the sound of blades swishing above her. _Mother of gods! They're trying to kill me!Hearing another movement in the darkness close by, she spun round with her right hand on the deck, and a roundhouse kick with her left leg that connected with one of the swordsman's knees, bringing him down._

Without waiting to congratulate herself, or even be surprised at how quickly she had reacted, she rolled again and heard the other sword swish so close she could feel the rush of air on her back.But it missed, and Margaidh saw blue sparks as it struck the metal deck. When she stood once again, there was another light with the grey warrior once again illuminated under it, and beckoning her forward once more.

Fearing another attack from the swordsmen in the darkness, Margaidh hurried towards the warrior, expecting him to vanish once more, but he did not. Instead, two more lights came on. One illuminated only an empty circle of metal floor, while in the other stood another figure. Margaidh gasped as she recognised the woman standing there.

The light seemed to illuminate only her head and hands, because she was clad from head to toe in a black leather jumpsuit. Only a fine red trim, and a red hourglass mark at the waist, broke the blackness. Her full hair shone almost as red, and over her shoulders was a cape of black fur streaked with the faintest trace of silver. In her hands, the woman held a wolf's-head mask as black as her clothes. Margaidh knew instantly that she was Khan Natasha Kerensky.

Natasha's face was solemn, but there was a trace of mischief in her eyes, and Margaidh frowned, wondering what she was up to.Then she began to speak, her voice carrying powerfully into the darkness.

"Trothkin, seen and unseen, near and far, living and dead, rejoice. The Wolf has brought us a foundling."Her words echoed in the darkness, and Margaidh felt as though they would have truly awoken the dead.

From around her, as if the darkness itself had reponded to Natasha Kerensky's words, came the reply; "Seyla."

"I am the Oathmaster!" Natasha said, even more commanding than before. "All will be bound by this Conclave until they are dust and memories, and beyond that time until the end of all that is."

Voices from the darkness again whispered, "Seyla."

_Natasha narrowed her eyes and looked into the darkness. "None would doubt the Wolf's wisdom. But some among you would believe the Wolf's generosity is too great. Who among you would deny this pup her life?"_

Margaidh shivered, and felt a rising wave of panic. _Whatever it is the Falcons are doing here, it seems it has approval from the top of Clan Wolf.Why do they want me dead, after all this time?_

There was the sound of movement, and someone stepped into the empty circle of light. He wore a representation of an Aerospace pilot's suit in shades of blue and silver, and on his head was a huge mask resembling a snarling white bear. The pilot removed his mask and tucked it under his arm, and Margaidh saw then that the pilot was a woman.

Natasha nodded in salute. "I recognise thee, Rebekha Devon of Clan Ghost Bear," she said.

"Oathmaster, I ken death from the skies for this pup," the pilot said to Natasha. Then she turned to fix Margaidh with an angry stare, and she lowered her voice to a growl. "Aye, it is death I see."

Again Natasha spoke. "Who among the Wolves would deny this vision?"

Another pilot stepped towards the circle, and stood between Rebekha and Margaidh. He wore grey leathers, with a wolf-fur cape and wolf-mask very like the warrior who had led her in. He took off his mask, and Margaidh recognised a pilot from the 328th Assault Cluster.

Natasha nodded at him. "I recognise thee, Gunars Ch'in of the Wolves."

Ch'in looked first at Rebekha, then at Natasha. "Oathmaster, it is my ken that this pup need fear nothing from the skies."

Another spotlight came on, close to where the pilots stood, and a man who could only be an Elemental, strode purposefully into it. He wore no armour, but his outfit seemed to resemble a stylised representation of it. Facets of metal reflected the light, and on his head he wore a mask shaped like a snake's head, that seemed to have mirrors for scales. As he removed his mask, light in many colours reflected from them.

"I recognise thee,Rafael Grimani of Clan Steel Viper," said Natasha.

"Oathmaster, I ken death by hand for this pup." Grimani turned to face Margaidh, and he too fixed her with a hateful stare. "Aye, 'tis death I see."

Natasha lifted her chin. "Who among the Wolves deny this vision?"

Another Elemental, wearing a dark wolf's-head mask and cape, strode into the second circle and stood in front of Grimani. When she took off her mask, Margaidh smiled.

"I recognise thee, Thalia Tutola of the Wolves."

"Oathmaster, it is my ken that this pup need not fear death by the hand," said Thalia.

A third spotlight came on and a man entered it. He was dressed as a Mechwarrior, but wore over his uniform a long green cape. On his head he wore a mask shaped like the head of a predatory bird, coloured green and made of what Margaidh guessed were real feathers. When he took off the mask, Margaidh went weak with terror.

"I recognise thee, Uvin Buhallin of the Clan Jade Falcon."

"Oathmaster, I ken death from her equals for this freebirth pup," he said, and glared at Margaidh. When she saw the hate in his eyes, she realised that the other two had been merely acting, playing out a part. Buhallin's hate was real. "Aye, it is death I see," he growled.

"Who among the Wolves would deny this vision?" Natasha called.

Another Mechwarrior, wearing a cape of dark russet brown and a bronze mask, stepped in front of Buhallin. When he took off his mask Margaidh's fear drained away.

"I recognise thee, Domask Lewis of the Wolves."

"Oathmaster, it is my ken that this pup need not fear death from her equals," he said, unable to contain a smile of his own.

"Face me, pup," commanded Natasha. Margaidh did so. "Thrice you have been challenged and thrice a defender has risen to protect you. Sponsored by the Wolf, warded by the Clan, all is in order."From beneath her cape, Natasha drew a silver dagger with a wolf-shaped hilt, like the one Domask had used after the Trial of Posession. "Give me your right hand," the Khan commanded.

Margaidh held out her hand and Natasha slid the blade against her skin, under the bondcord.

"This marked you as a bondsman, but yours is the heart, the soul and the mind of a warrior. The Wolf has seen it, and I, the Oathmaster, proclaim it." With a swift motion, Natasha sliced through the cord, letting it fall to the floor. Then she tossed the knife in the air, caught the tip of it's blade between thumb and forefinger, and slapped the hilt down into Margaidh's outstretched palm. Her gaze met Margaidh's own, and the Khan gave her a mischievous wink. "Let us rejoice, for there is a new warrior amongst our number."

For a moment Margaidh could only stare in amazement at the Khan. All the fear was gone now, but it was replaced with a feeling of complete shock.

"Well, kiddo, aren't you going to thank your sponsor?" Natasha said quietly, pointing at the grey-clad warrior.Margaidh nodded speechlessly and turned towards him as he took off his mask to reveal a familiar face.

"Phelan!" Margaidh gasped, and embraced him.

"Congratulations, Margaidh," he replied.

Then Domask, Thalia and Gunars all came forward to offer their own congratulations, until Natasha shoo-ed them back to their places and once again addressed the crowds ammassed in the darkness. "I, Natasha Kerensky, Khan of the Wolves and Oathmaster to this Conclave, welcome Margaidh Shelagh, of the Lewis line, to the Clan of the Wolves. According to custom handed down since Alexandr Kerensky led our ancestors into the unknown, and his son Nicholas saved us from ourselves, you will be known to the Children of Kerensly as Margaidh Wolf. No longer a bondsman, you are now a Warrior. Thus it shall stand until we all shall fall."

"Thus it shall stand until we all shall fall," echoed the crowds ammassed in the darkness. The challengers all filed away, and Margaidh thought she could hear also the sound of the audience also filtering out of the hall. Thalia and Gunars saluted to Natasha and once more congratulated Margaidh before they too left the hall, leaving only Margaidh, Natasha, Phelan and Domask standing in the spotlights.

Margaidh hugged Domask once more, and she thought that he might burst with pride. "Thankyou for believing in me," she said quietly.

"I knew you would not fail," he replied. "It proves you truly do belong to House Lewis."

Margaidh smiled at the Khan, feeling somehow that she were as much a friend as an honoured leader."You did good, kid," Natasha said with a grin. "When Domask told me he thought you were ready for this, I have to admit I wasn't so sure."

"What do you mean?" Margaidh asked hesitantly.

"Those swordsmen weren't just play-acting," she replied. "If you hadn't got out of the way in time, we would be celebrating your wake, not your Adoption."

Margaidh went pale.

"You did better than I did," Phelan said, nudging Margaidh in the ribs. "I nearly lost my leg in mine, and you didn't even get a scratch."

Margaidh remembered the time she had first met Phelan as he limped into the sickbay with a cut to his thigh. "I think that is an exaggeration, Phelan," she replied with a grin. "But I think I was lucky."

"I hope it was not just luck, Margaidh Wolf," Natasha said. "Because your greatest challenge is yet to come. You have today been granted the status of a Warrior, but you must prove that rank in a Trial of Position if you wish to become a Mechwarrior."She fixed Margaidh with a stern stare. "You are already twenty-four, so you will have a lot of catching up to do. I expect you to be ready to test out in three months."

* * *


	11. 21 February 3052

_Teeganito Astako, Alurial Continent_

_Hyperion_

_21st February 3052_

Margaidh stepped out of the dropship and squinted against the morning sun as she felt real earth under her feet for the first time since leaving Strana Mechty almost seven months before. The heat hit her like a wave as she slowly let her gaze fall across the desert of red sand with it's deep canyons and towering mesas. Domask put a reassuring hand on her left shoulder, and Kristen on her right merely let out a low whistle of awe.

"It is a magnificent sight, quiaff?" Margaidh asked, barely above a whisper.

"Aff," Domask replied. "Beautiful, but deadly. At mid-day, the air temperature can reach over sixty degrees centigrade, while at night it drops to twenty below."

Margaidh shook her head. "I still think we should have stayed on the _Dire Wolf and practised on the simulators. I've wasted a week already."_

"Simulators are for children," Domask replied. "Or for those times when there is no planet available on which to practise. One day in the cockpit of a real Mech is worth far more than six in a simulator. Besides, it gives us the opportunity to patrol the region, and make sure there are no bandits around."

Margaidh grinned. "I thought hunting bandits was a job for _solamha, quiaff?"_

Domask scowled at being compared to the inferior _solamha units. But instead of chastising her, he grinned back. "You are an untried freebirth warrior, remember. That means you are less than __solamha." He turned back towards the drop-ship where the rest of the Mechwarriors and their techs were making ready for the first patrol. Most of them were from the 13th Wolf Guards, Khan Natasha's famous Wolf Spiders, but a few extras from the 328th Assault Cluster had joined them to assist in Margaidh's training._

In the Mech hangar, Margaidh was introduced to Star Captain Samis, who was taking charge of the patrols in the absence of Natasha Kerensky whose presence had been required aboard the _Dire Wolf.Samis was a thin, nervous-looking man with close-cropped yellow hair and hawk-like eyes that constantly flickered from one side to another. Despite his jittery demeanour, he smiled warmly at Domask and Margaidh._

"I am glad you could accompany us," he said, offering his hand for Domask to shake. "I must admit, I was surprised when I received Khan Kerensky's request for you to accompany us, but…" he gave a shrug. "…it is always a refreshing change to have visitors, quiaff?"

"Aff," Domask agreed.

"So you are the young protegé of House Lewis, quiaff?"Samis turned to Margaidh, and gave her an appraising look.

"Aff," Margaidh replied with a salute.

Samis must have liked what he saw, because he gave a quick nod of approval. "Good. Now, let us not waste more time talking. Your Mech is the _Kit Fox over there." He pointed across the hangar to a smallish, squat Mech painted in typical wolf-grey, looking diminutive beside Domask's big __Timber Wolf. "Domask will assist you, I have much to do." And with that, Samis hurried off._

Domask handed Margaidh a kit bag in which she found a brand new cooling suit and overgarments, and when she had changed she returned to the foot of the Mech. She was almost bursting with excitement, but never since the first time she ever piloted the _Blue Skye had she been so nervous about getting into a Mech._

_I have only piloted a Mech once in the past two years, not counting Tech work, and that one time almost put me in a wheelchair for life. She hesitated at the base of the ladder leading up to the cockpit, then smiled and hurried up it._

Once in the cockpit, Margaidh settled into the seat and was surprised by how quickly she remembered what to do, even after so long. She fastened the safety harness then clicked the large red reactor swith to 'on' and listened to the satisfying hum of the engine slowly warming up. Next she opened a compartment containing the medical sensor patches, and stuck one to each thigh and each shoulder. Cables from the patches threaded up through loops in the cooling vest to nestle under her chin in readiness for plugging into the neurohelmet.

Next, she plugged the cable from the cooling suit into the side of the command couch and immediately felt the familiar tickling sensation as coolant fluid started to flow. Then, from above the couch she pulled down the neurohelmet and put it over her head, settling it on the padded shoulders of the jacket and rocking it until the sensor pads inside it settled into the proper places on Margaidh's head. She was momentarily surprised at its lightness in comparison with her old helmet. Finally she fastened the chinstrap and the tapes that held it to the vest.

Reaching to the left, she reached for the switch that would start up the computer initialisation, and she hesitated. Normally, a Mech required a particular code to start it up, thus preventing one being stolen by anyone unauthorised. There was a general Technician's passcode, but that changed from unit to unit and even from week to week. Besides, the Techs code did not arm the weapons.

Margaidh lifted the visor on her helmet, leaned over the side of the cockpit and shouted across to Domask, who was prepping his own _Timber Wolf."What do I do about the passcode?" she asked._

"Just switch it on and see what happens," Domask called back.

She switched on the computer, and waited for it to load up it's diagnostic programs before it spoke in its tinny, synthetic voice."Kit Fox 349287XL3306 online. Proceed with voice identification."

"Margaidh Wolf."

"Voiceprint pattern match obtained. Working…" There was a long pause. "Who were the Boys of Summer?"

"The Seventeenth Skye Rangers," Margaidh replied without hesitation. She felt a twinge of sadness when she realised the computer had said 'were' instead of 'are'.

"Affirmative. Welcome aboard, Margaidh Wolf."

Margaidh grinned to herself as the cockpit canopy slowly lowered itself, and power surged through the control systems. A bank of screens lit up and data flashed across them as each one was checked by the computer, and its status verified. She saw the _Kit Fox was carrying one extended range laser and a small pulse laser side by side in the left arm, while the boxier right arm carried an LBX Autocannon, and a four-pack of short range missiles, as well as ammunition for both weapons._

At last the start-up was complete, and Margaidh closed her hands around the two joysticks and slid her feet into the shoe-like pedals that would enable the Mech to walk. A final glance around the cockpit's controls to familiarise herself with the layout, and she spotted what she had been unable to find in the _Hellbringer; a radio. She flicked it on, and Domask spoke to her almost immediately._

"Charlie One to Charlie Five. Are you ready, Margaidh?"

"As ready as I will ever be, I think." _You wouldn't believe how good it feels to be in a Mech again._

"Good. Now, Channel seven is an open radio link to the whole patrol, but Channel twelve is a closed link between you and me, so you can ask any damn stupid question you like, and only I will know about it."

"Roger, Charlie One," Margaidh replied, smiling at the sound of amusement coming through in Domask's voice.

The _Timber Wolf started to move towards the big open doors and Margaidh flexed her left leg, expecting the __Kit Fox to do the same. But instead, it just gave a sort of sideways lurch and stopped. At first she thought there was something wrong with the Mech's leg actuators, but the computer was registering no malfunction._

_It isn't the Mech's leg actuators, it's mine! Margaidh thought with dismay.She took a deep breath and concentrating on exactly what her legs were doing, she tried again. This time it worked, and the __Kit Fox staggered awkwardly after the __Timber Wolf, looking like a drunken chicken._

"Charlie Five, this is Charlie One," Domask's voice came through on channel twelve. "Do you have a problem?"

"Neg," Margaidh replied, her Mech briefly staggering as she lost concentration on walking to speak to Domask. "But this is harder than I thought it would be."She concentrated hard and increased the pace a little, so the Mech began to jog towards the _Timber Wolf. Once she had caught up with him, it took yet more concentration to slow down again without tipping the __Kit Fox onto its nose."It is like learning to walk all over again," Margaidh said to Domask. "My brain knows what to do, but my legs are not listening to it."_

Domask's laugh echoed in her neurohelmet. "I think it will not be long before you are accustomed to the actions again," he replied.

It took almost an hour for Margaidh and Domask to catch up with the rest of the patrol, by which time Margaidh felt much more confident with handling the Mech. The other mechwarriors, one full star plus three to make up another with herself and Domask, were sitting in the shade of an overhanging ridge, with assorted Mechs standing like a row of sentries.

Margaidh was grateful for the chance to stop and rest, since using muscles that were unaccustomed to such prolonged exercise had left her legs and lower back aching.To her surprise, Phelan was there, and she gingerly sat down beside him, wincing as a twinge of pain shot from the middle of her back and travelled in both directions at once.

"Are you sure you are fit enough for this?" Phelan asked, his face showing concern. "The patrol will last most of the day."

Margaidh nodded and smiled at him. "I will be fine, Phelan. I am just a little saddle-sore, that is all."

Phelan scowled, not sure whether to believe her or not. He passed her a flask of drink and she took it gratefully. It was ice-cold and refreshing in the desert heat and she smiled back at him then lay back on the sand, looking up at the towering battlemechs.

"It hurts like hell, but I think it has been worth it," she said with a smile.

_14th March 3052_

What passed for 'Scotch' on the _Dire Wolf resembled it's namesake only in that it was alcoholic, and amber coloured. Margaidh did not care that it tasted worse than even Donegal Whisky. It was better than nothing. She poured herself a large measure and knocked it back quickly. Unlike Skye Whisky, this was not a drink to be savoured._

The day after Margaidh's first patrol in a Mech, she was so sore she could barely walk, and she spent most of the day sitting in the drop-ship while the rest of the patrol went out without her.The scotch she drank helped to numb the pain but it made her melancholy.Kristen patiently listened to her constant worrying that she had caused some further damage to her back, or that she was mistaken about her ability to pilot a Mech in the first place.

Margaidh was relieved to find that the following day she felt considerably better, and by the end of the week she was out in a Mech for at least four hours a day without a break. She could not decide, however, whether she was actually hurting less by then, or whether she was ignoring the pain more easily. Kristen said it was because she was drinking too much, but as far as Margaidh was concerned, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was getting more accustomed to sitting in a Mech.

After a week of patrolling the desert in the _Kit Fox, the routine changed, there were changes of personnel, and Margaidh was no longer assigned to the patrol stars. Instead, Domask took her out alone to a makeshift firing range, in a different Mech each time, and she practised her gunnery skills.One day merged into another, with morning and afternoon sessions on the range, followed up by long hours in front of the holovid going over the battleroms._

Any spare time, which was infrequent, was taken up by other physical exercise; weight training, unarmed combat and long runs in the desert dusk.At the end of the day Margaidh would collapse into her bunk, but despite her exhaustion, the constant ache in her back and legs kept her awake. After two further weeks of such an exhausting schedule, Margaidh was relieved that it was almost over, and that tomorrow she would be heading back for the Dire Wolf.

Margaidh gritted her teeth and swung the _Mad Dog's torso round to the left, bringing the lasers to bear on the target. Her finger pressed the trigger and both large lasers spat their tongues of searing light, only to pass ineffectively over the head of the __Timber Wolfstanding menacingly on a ridge. The __Timber Wolf returned fire with it's own extended-range lasers, slicing armour from her __Mad Dog's legs and rocking it backwards._

Suddenly unbalanced, she fought to keep the Mech upright, but she couldn't hold it, and it toppled backwards. Margaidh closed her eyes, trying to block out the images of the accident on Ridderkerk, and the impact made her gasp aloud with pain and shock.

After a moment or two lying in the command couch, trying to decide whether she had broken her back again, Margaidh decided she hadn't and struggled to get the Mech standing again.Since the _Mad Dog had only guns and not hands, she could not use them to push the sixty-five tons of metal and ferro-fibrous armour off the ground, and at the first attempt she only succeeded in an ineffective kicking, like a turtle on its back trying to turn over._

The second time, she got leverage from the Mech's right elbow against a rock, and pushed it to an ungainly sitting position. The _Timber Wolf had by now reached her, and was pointing its huge blocky guns right at the cockpit._

Domask's voice echoed in Margaidh's neurohelmet. "Bang! You are dead."

"Very funny," Margaidh replied, banging her fist in anger on the side of the couch.

"Not funny. _Stupid!"Domask's voice betrayed an anger as strong as Margaidh's own. "Make a manouver like that again and you deserve to be destroyed. This is not a game, Margaidh. It is real. Fail, and you die."_

"It was not my fault!" Margaidh snapped back, struggling once again to stand the Mech. "My legs still react more slowly than they used to. That is why I fell."

"You have less than two months before your trial. Are you saying you are not ready?"

_That's right, Domask. I am not ready. If I had half the speed and co-ordination as I had before the accident, I would not have missed, and I would not have fallen.Margaidh suppressed a shudder. "I will be ready, when the time comes." _

The session's de-brief took only half an hour, since the session itself had been prematurely halted by Margaidh's fall. Nevertheless, Domask managed to squeeze into that half hour enough criticism to last her a whole week. When at last he raised his hands in exasperation and told her to get lost, Margaidh returned to her cabin, blinking back tears of anger and frustration.

She slammed the door shut with a clang, swore loudly, closed her eyes and leaned against it, waiting for the aching in her back to subside a little.She pulled a half-empty bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer and drank from it, not bothering to pour the liquid into a glass. As the heat warmed her throat she closed her eyes and gave a groan.

"You don't look happy," said Kristen, who was lying face down on the top bunk, busily studying a technical manual.

"That's the understatement of the century," Margaidh retorted, throwing her jacket to the floor and wincing as she crossed the room and sat carefully down on the lower bunk, still cradling the bottle.

Kristen closed her book and dropped lightly to the floor, giving Margaidh a concerned look. "Mags? Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" Margaidh replied. She took another drink and set the bottle down beside the bed before slowly lying back against the pillows. She gave a moan of half-pain, half-relief as she felt mattress and pillows under her back."I have never been so embarassed in my life. I took a fall in a Mech, and would you believe I couldn't stand it up again?"

"Oh, Mags!"Kristen cradled Margaidh's head in her arms and Margaidh screwed her eyes shut, squeezing tears from them that Kristen brushed away with her finger. "Don't cry, love. Everything will work itself out."

Margaidh shook her head and opened her eyes, struggling to prop herself up on her elbows. "I will not be ready in time, Kristen. Dammit, I think I've actually got _worse in the last two weeks, not better."_

"You've been working too hard. You're exhausted."

Margaidh nodded in agreement. _I am exhausted. My back hurts like hell and I feel worse than I did a year ago. But real war doesn't stop just because the soldiers are tired.She turned away from Kristen and lay back down again. "It's just too far out of my reach, Kris. I've come this far and it's not quite far enough."_

_15th March 3052_

While Kristen spent the morning in the Mech bays preparing for launch, Margaidh stayed in her cabin feeling sorry for herself. Since they were departing from Hyperion that afternoon, there was no training, but Margaidh would not have been able to do any, even if it had been scheduled. In fact, she was in so much pain she once again had to rely on her walking stick, but since she stayed sprawled on the bunk most of the morning it didn't much matter.She did not want Domask, or anyone else, to see how badly off the previous day's accident had left her.

Once the Drop Ship had left Hyperion's red sands behind, Margaidh stood for a while by the window, watching the planet's shining disc gradually receeding into the blackness of space.Her fingers instinctively reached up to her neck to touch the _Blue Skye charm, but she only remembered at the last moment that it was not there. The symbol of all she had lost was itself gone, and it seemed that all hope had gone with it. She poured herself a large measure of scotch, downed it in one go and refilled the glass. It helped to dull the aches, and as it took effect she allowed a smile to creep across her face._

The decision was not a spontaneous one; she had dwelt on the possibility many times, particularly at those times, like now, when it seemed Margaidh would never achieve her goal. She had considered it carefully all morning, and as the Drop Ship began its six-day journey back to the Dire Wolf, Margaidh made up her mind that the time had come to act on that decision.

She found Domask in the command room, watching battleroms on a holovid projector. When she came in he looked up at her and frowned as he noticed she was leaning heavily on the walking stick.

"Margaidh? Are you alright?" He stood and pulled out a chair for her.

Margaidh shook her head. "No. But I would rather stand. This will not take long."

Domask frowned, and switched off the holovid projector. "What is wrong?"

Margaidh did not look at Domask as she spoke, but fixed her attention on a single point behind him. She did not wish to meet his gaze. "I can no longer continue with my training. I request permission to withdraw from the Trial of Position, and I request a transferral to another Caste."

Of all the responses she had expected Domask to make, she had not prepared herself for the way he actually did react. She did not even see him move, she only felt the sudden sting of his palm against her face as he slapped her hard. Margaidh lowered her head and touched her cheek, hardly believing he'd actually hit her.

_I suppose I deserve that, for giving in._

Domask's face was livid with rage, but as quickly as it had erupted he let it go, and sighed. "I am sorry, Margaidh. I should not have done that. But I must refuse your request." 

That hurt more than the slap, and Margaidh looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "Yesterday proved to me that my dreams were… just that. Foolish dreams." She shook the walking stick at him, almost threatening. "Look at me. These last two weeks piloting Mechs have set me back months. I will not be ready for my Trial."

Domask sat heavily back down in his chair and shook his head. "I cannot believe I am hearing this from you, Margaidh. I cannot believe you have so much scorn for me."

Margaidh frowned. "Scorn for you? What do you mean?"

"A little over a year ago, I stood before the Council of Wolves, and proclaimed my utmost belief that you would succeed in achieving your dream, foolish as it seemed then to some.I was prepared to take Vincent into a Circle of Equals, if that was what it would take to protect your right to a Trial of Position. Now you have the nerve to stand here and tell me I was wrong." He slammed his fist down on the desk.

"It is not you I have scorn for, it is me!" Margaidh wailed in protest. "I am the one who was wrong."

Domask fixed Margaidh with a stare, his eyes narrow. "Let me tell you something, Margaidh. The only reason you can walk today is because you refused to give up. You had a dream, a goal, and you worked non-stop towards achieving that. Without that goal, and the drive to achieve it, you would probably still be sitting in a wheelchair, or hobbling on crutches. What is certain, is that you would not have just spent over eighty hours out of the last two weeks in the cockpit of a Mech."

He pointed to the second chair and this time Margaidh sat down, clenching her teeth against the pain. "It is those eighty hours that have proved to me that I no longer have what it takes to be a Mechwarrior," she said quietly.

"So you want to give up on nearly eighteen months of hard work? What would you do? You have no other training."

Margaidh shrugged. "I would be happy to do whatever the Clan required of me," she replied, mimicking the words Thalia Tutola had used. _There must be a place for me in the Labourer's Caste._

Domask leaned forward in his own chair. "Shall I tell you what the Clan requires of you? What _I require of you?" He waited for a response, and Margaidh gave a slight nod of her head without looking at him. "The Clan requires that you continue with your training and take your Trial of Position as scheduled."_

Margaidh frowned at him. "But you said yesterday that if I fail I will die. Do you _want me to die?"_

"No, Margaidh. But I remember you saying, many months ago, that you would rather die than not have the chance to be a Mechwarrior." He put his hands on her shoulders and looked hard at her. "A transfer to another Caste would kill you just as surely as a PPC, or the blade of a knife across your wrists."

That last one sent a jolt through Margaidh as she saw a sudden image of her mother lying unconscious on a blood-drenched bathroom floor.

Domask smiled. "I do not know whether or not you will succeed at your Trial of Position. But I know one thing. If you fail, even if you die, I will still be proud of you. Do not tarnish the Lewis name, neither mine nor your mother's, by giving up now."

Margaidh swallowed hard, but she could not speak. Instead, she got to her feet and turned away from Domask so he could not see the tears that were already running down her cheeks, and she hurried away as fast as she could before Domask could say any more.

As the door swished shut, Domask gave a moan, and kicked angrily at the chair in which Margaidh had been sitting, then he spun through one-eighty degrees and looked at another door that connected the command room with a small rest-room. The moment he heard that door begin to open he turned the holo-projector on again and resumed watching the images it showed.When the rest-room's occupant came and stood behind him, watching over his shoulder, he neither spoke nor moved.

"Well, that was a surprise, wasn't it?"

Domask stood and faced Natasha Kerensky, his anger rising again, making him forget she was his Khan. "You do realise she might just not make it now, because of what happened yesterday. Her confidence is shattered. You should have let me tell her the truth!"

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Domask and handed him a mug of coffee, then she sat down on the desk and crossed her long legs, cradling her own mug in both hands."You know, when word got down to Outreach that the Wolves had captured Margaidh Lewis, I have to admit the first thing that got my interest was that odd _Shadow Hawk she had. I remembered it from the twenties and thirties, when it belonged to her mother. So I dug out some of the Dragoons' files on the Lewis family and started doing some research."_

Natasha took a long sip of coffee. "For instance, did you know that Patrick Kell once offered Margaidh's mother a place in the Kell Hounds, and she turned him down?"

Domask shook his head.

"Maybe if she'd accepted the offer, she wouldn't have ended up…" Natasha hesitated over using the word _crippled. "Well, anyway, life is life. It doesn't always work out the way you think it should."_

"And what about Margaidh?" Domask said, frowning at Natasha.

"Margaidh is a hundred times better than her mother ever could have been. I've seen some of her Academy reports, and they're good. Very good." She narrowed her eyes at Domask. "Did you know she was formally disciplined no less than nine times at Sanglamore? She would have been bounced out in the first year if her performance wasn't so exceptional."

"What was she disciplined for?"

"Four times for disregarding stupid orders, and the rest were alcohol-related." Natasha bit her lip. "That part still worries me."

Domask drank half his coffee in one go. "What worries me more at the moment is her lack of confidence. She seemes to have forgotten just how good she really is."

"What do you expect, after what she's been through the last two years? Or the last two weeks? Dammit, Lewis, if it was me I'd sure as hell feel exactly the same."

Domask scowled. "I think we are pushing her too hard. You know she can barely walk today."

Natasha slammed her mug down on the desk and raised her arms in exasperation. "Now you're talking just like she did! You think she won't make it, quiaff?"

"I do not know. I think she needs more time."

"There _is no more time. I had to twist Radick's arm to give us three months after her adoption as it is." _

Domask sighed and rubbed his temples, but he said nothing.

"Listen, Domask. When Phelan Kell turned up, everyone in the Clan was raving about how remarkable he was. And sure, he _is remarkable. Hell, he's only twenty and already he's in the middle of a Trial of Bloodright. That'll beat my record by two years." Natasha grinned._

"If he gets it," Domask reminded her.

"_When, Lewis. __When he gets it." Natasha emphasised her point by thumping the desk. "But my point is this; I don't think Phelan is all that unusual. Margaidh might be running four years behind, but I don't believe that matters a damn. And I don't think she is alone, either. The Inner Sphere is full of kids like Phelan and Margaidh. The question we should be asking ourselves is whether the Clan is ready to face them."_

Natasha stood and headed for the door. As she reached it she turned back and smiled at Domask. "There is no need to worry about Margaidh. She will make it."

"Are you certain?"

Natasha Kerensky's smile became a wolfish grin. "With you and I both kicking her butt, she'd better." Then she winked, and before Domask had time to reply, she was gone.

Domask looked back towards the holovid, which was still running the battlerom from the previous day's incident. He watched the _Mad Dog's instruments as it toppled, and even after having seen the battlerom over six times already, he still willed for Margaidh to get the Mech standing again._

But Domask could see from the reports shown on the battlerom that his own laser volley had damaged the _Mad Dog's left lower leg actuator, and another electrical fault had meant the malfunction was not registering in the cockpit's display.He shook his head, and smiled. "It was not your fault, Margaidh. Not your fault."_


	12. 3 April 3052

_Diosd_

_3rd April 3052_

The depression Margaidh had felt on the Drop-Ship back from Hyperion had not lifted on her arrival back on the _Dire Wolf.She still had a training programme, and Domask had stressed the importance of sticking to it, but Margaidh was of the opinion now that it was rather pointless to train for something she had no chance of winning. She had already discovered that if she failed to complete any day's training, Domask and even Natasha Kerensky would come down on her like a ton of bricks. _

But a good stiff drink before she started made the whole thing halfway tolerable, and it helped dull the ache in her back at the same time.Margaidh replaced the half-empty bottle under the bunk, reached for her kit bag and without waking Kristen, she left the cabin and headed for the training rooms.

As usual, her schedule required an hour of weight training before a session in the simulators. Once or twice Margaidh had tried to cheat by not actually attending the unsupervised weight training, but she soon discovered that the simulator sessions hurt less if she did as she was told, and warmed up first. Besides, she had the impression that some of the Elementals also sharing the training room had been sent to spy on her.

She had barely started the session when she recognised Trellick, an Elemental from the Thirteenth Wolf Guards. He looked as though he was giving a guided tour to the blond-haired youth who stood beside him, and though Margaidh could not hear what they spoke about, it was clear from Trellick's gestures that the youth had been instructed to start training.The youth gave an enthusiastic nod and hurried off to the adjoining changing room, returning a few minutes later dressed for exercise.

The one-piece grey bodysuit, identical to the one Margaidh wore, would have been skin-tight on anyone else. On this youth it hung loosely over his body. Margaidh thought she had never seen anyone so thin, except on those harrowing news holovids about starving refugees in times of famine.He was tall too, taller than Margaidh, and that made his thinness look even more apparent.

The youth sat on the weight machine beside Margaidh's own, and gave her a friendly smile. She felt herself flush, embarassed at having been caught staring at him, and turned to look straight ahead, concentrating on the flexing of her legs against the weights.But even when she was not looking at him, she felt his gaze, and it sent an uncomfortable shudder down her spine.

Margaidh stopped pumping the weights and turned to face him, about to snap at him to leave her alone. But when she looked at him, she saw him blush and look away, and there was something about his pale blue puppy-dog eyes that melted her anger. "You are new here, quiaff?" she asked instead.

"Aff," the youth replied, a little breathlessly as he worked against hs own weights. Margaidh noticed his weights were set at less than half what Margaidh was shifting. "I am Cadet Alek," he continued, extending a bony hand for her to shake.

"Margaidh," she replied, smiling and accepting his hand. "If there's anything you need, just ask." She resumed her exercising. "It's good to have some friendly company for a change."

"I gather from your accent and your speech that you are from the Inner Sphere, quiaff?" Alek asked curiously.

Margaidh cursed inwardly. She had not even noticed the contractions. "Aff. I apologise if my careless speech offended you," she replied, with a touch of sarcasm.

"Neg," Alek said after a moment or two of thought.

"That makes a change."

Alek opened his mouth to reply but stopped when he saw Thalia hurrying over to talk to Margaidh. "I have a message from Domask," the dark-skinned Elemental said. "He asked me to apologise but he will be unable to supervise your simulator practise this morning."

Margaidh was torn between irritation and relief. "Oh," was all she said.

Thalia hesitated. "He told me to say you have been booked in with Khan Kerensky. You are to report to her in the simulator room in one hour." Then she walked off.

_Dammit, Margaidh thought to herself. The news that Natasha had taken over her simulator session immediately shattered any hope Margaidh might have had of an easy morning._

"It looks as though you are with me, then," Alek said with a smile. 

"Then I suppose we had better get to know one another," Margaidh replied. "Though I would not rate myself as the best person to know, at present. I would be a bad influence on you."

Alek frowned. "Why?"

Margaidh turned around on the seat and faced Alek, leaning with her elbows against the steel frame. Her expression was troubled. "I am supposed to take my Trial of Position in less than two months," she said with a sigh.

Alek frowned. "But that is good, quiaff?" he replied.

"No, Alek. It is not good. Because I will not be ready in two months." She paused, and Alek gave her a quizzical look. "Eighteen months ago, not long after I was made Bondsman, I rolled a Mech down a cliff and broke my back. They told me I would never walk again, but I was determined I would win the right to become a Mechwarrior again. And now, after eighteen months of hard work, I've almost made it."

Alek gave a half-hearted smile. "I do not understand why you are unhappy with that," he said. "I would admire your ambition, and your obvious success."

Margaidh shook her head. "Almost made it, Alek. _Almost, but not quite. Domask and even Natasha Kerensky are certain I am ready, but I am not. I was adopted in February and given three months, but I think I need six, at least. But no-one else agrees with me. They all have too much confidence in me."She stood and reached for the towel, rubbed at her hair then draped it over her shoulders._

"Your problem seems almost the opposite to mine," Alek said with a wry smile. "As you might expect, no-one expects me to test out on account of my physique, or lack of it. A lot of people think it is a fluke that I even survived, and here I am, the last of my sibko still on the Warrior's programme."

Margaidh frowned. "The last one? Out of a hundred?"

"Aff," Alek replied with a nod. "There were… problems with the gene replication, I think." Then he grinned. "I may not be as strong as most people, but I make up for it in speed. My Trial is also in May. Since I have no surviving Sibkin to try out with me, it is possible you and I could be partners."

"Do you think you will test out?" Margaidh asked.

"I _know I will," Alek replied._

Margaidh closed her eyes and suppressed a shiver. _It was not so long ago I shared the same confidence. __Why is it that whenever things start going right, Fate turns round and knocks you back down again?_

When Margaidh reported with Alek to the simulator room and met with Natasha Kerensky, she was surprised to find that the rest of the Star comprised of Phelan and Ranna, under Natasha's command. The exercises seemed, from Margaidh's point of view at least, to be mostly for Phelan's benefit, since he was keeping in top form for his Bloodright Trials. Margaidh and Alek were relegated to a fire-support role while the other three dealt with the major assaults.

But, of course, nothing Natasha Kerensky ever did could be accepted at face value. Margaidh and Alek soon found themselves not merely acting as fire-support butthrown into the action as a star of light and medium Mechs attempted to ambush Natasha's threesome. Margaidh, in her favourite _Mad Dog and Alek in a modified __Timber Wolf were hard-pressed to keep up with the lighter, faster Mechs, but with a combination of quick wits and heavy guns, Alpha Four and Five saved the day._

Margaidh climbed out of the simulator cockpit, and her feet had barely touched the floor before Natasha Kerensky came over, a wolfish smile on her face. "Did you enjoy my little game?" the Khan asked, as Alek came to join them.

"Aff," Margaidh replied, returning the Khan's smile. And to her amazement, she actually did. For the first time since her tumble on Hyperion, she felt good about being in a Mech. She rubbed at the ache in her back and spotted Natasha's frown.

"You two are both excused from the de-brief," Natasha said, looking more at Alek than at Margaidh. "Get a shower, then make sure Margaidh visits the doctor before doing anything else."

Margaidh groaned inwardly, but Alek gave an eager salute. "Aff, Khan Kerensky," he replied, but almost before he had finished, Natasha had turned and was heading back to where Phelan and Ranna were waiting for her.

To Margaidh's relief, and despite the nagging ache in the small of her back, the doctor gave her the all-clear, and simply told her that drinking alcohol before exercise was a bad idea. She merely shrugged, then she and Alek went to the canteen. Margaidh chose the one Phelan preferred, and shortly after the pair of them had sat down with their lunch trays, Phelan and Ranna came over to join them.

"How was the de-brief?" Margaidh asked.

"Um, dull," Phelan replied, exchanging glances with Ranna.Margaidh scowled. _You're hiding something, Phelan. Have the three of you been discussing me?Phelan hastily changed the subject. "Did the doctor say you were okay?" he asked._

Margaidh nodded, but did not say anything about the advice he'd given her. In fact, she said very little during the meal, and barely picked at her food. As the others finished, Ranna nudged Phelan and whispered something to him, then she took Alek by the arm and steered the surprised youth out of the canteen, deep in conversation about the morning's simulator battle.

"Okay, suppose you tell me why you are so miserable," Phelan said, staring hard at Margaidh. "I thought this morning's exercise went well, quiaff?"

Margaidh merely shrugged, and folded her arms. Her plate, still half full, seemed to mock her. "Aff, I suppose," she said, non-commitally. _God, I need a drink."Oh, I don't know, Phelan. I still get the feeling that it's all going to be a waste of time."_

"No, Margaidh. Don't talk like that, or it will be over before it starts!" His voice was desperate, almost pleading.

Margaidh shook her head. "You cannot imagine what it feels like, Phelan!" She looked at him, her eyes now full of tears. "When I'm sitting in a Mech, I see everything in my mind, exactly what I want the machine to do, all completely instinctive. Except when I try and do it, my legs are half a second behind the rest of my body. It doesn't sound much, but it's enough to get the Mech sliced open by a laser."

"But you did okay this morning, quiaff?"

"Neg. I did no better than any Sanglamore freshman. If I am going to survive my Trial of Position, I need to be better than okay."Margaidh stood up, letting the chair topple behind her, and she ran out of the canteen, heading back to her cabin, and the comfort of her whisky bottle.

Phelan watched her go, and slammed the table with his fist. "Dammit, Margaidh!" he said aloud. _You just don't see it, do you? You don't realise just how good you are. You compare yourself with me and Ranna, even Natasha, and you think because you don't match up you're no good. Well, you're wrong. I just hope you see that before your Trial._

_6th April 3052_

Margaidh awoke early, found herself lying in Kristen's arms. Kristen was still sleeping, and carefully, to avoid waking her, Margaidh got out of the bunk and sat by the desk. She reached for the bottle, uncapped it and poured what was left into the tumbler. It barely made a single measure, and Margaidh cursed quietly before gulping the scotch down in her usual manner.

Kristen stirred in her sleep, her hands searching for the body that was no longer there, and Margaidh knelt beside the bunk, leaning over to give her a gentle kiss. _I love you, Kristen. I hope you know that.Then she stood, dressed and took a fresh bottle of scotch from her cupboard.It was the bottle of Skye whiskey that Kristen had given to her on her birthday, and for a moment she just looked at it. Then she smiled. The decision was made, and with it came a feeling of calm she had not felt in a long time. Leaving her lover still peacefully sleeping, she tiptoed out of the room, closing the door silently behind her._

With the bottle carefully tucked under her arm she walked to one of her favourite parts of the Dire Wolf. Towards the rear of the vast ship, on the uppermost deck, was an observation lounge that was so far off the beaten track, Margaidh wondered if more than a handful of people knew about it at all. She had discovered the place quite by accident one lonely afternoon, and since then she would spend any time she could in that remote place. Once she had brought Kristen there, and they had made love together, under the watchful but silent stars.

Margaidh sat down on the bare deck, leaning against the bulkhead where she could see the stars through the large porthole window. The only sound was the gentle throbbing of the engines twelve decks below, their vibrations reverberating through the deck and walls of the observation hall. Margaidh closed her eyes, feeling the vibrations in her own body, and with a smile she twisted off the top of the whisky bottle.

"Slàinte mhór," she said aloud, and took a long drink.

When Kristen awoke, and found Margaidh was gone, the first thing she noticed was the empty bottle on the table. She picked up the bottle and dropped it into the recycling bin, and cursed aloud. "I wish you'd throw the damned things away, Mags."

An hour later, after Kristen had showered and was ready for duty, the computer terminal bleeped its announcement of an incoming message. She switched the terminal on to 'receive' and was surprised to see the face of Natasha Kerensky, looking unhappy. "Khan Kerensky!" Kristen said. "How can I help you?"

"Actually it was Margaidh I wanted to talk to."

Kristen shook her head. "Margaidh is not here, she left early this morning."

Natasha's frown deepened, furrowing her brow. Kristen thought for the first time that the Khan was beginning to show signs of her age. "Well, she was meant to report to me for a simulator session half an hour ago. When she comes back, tell her she's late and I'm mad."

Kristen nodded and smiled. "I will tell her, Khan Kerensky."The Khan nodded, smiled back and then her image blinked out. Kristen frowned, and rubbed the back of her neck, where the hairs had suddenly all stood to attention.

But Kristen did not have time to wait for Margaidh to return, and she hurried to the Mech bays where she was soon up to her elbows, quite literally, in her work.She only remembered Natasha's call towards the end of the afternoon, when she saw the Khan, accompanied by Phelan, coming into the Mech Bay. They headed straight for Kristen, and the young Tech could see concern etched on both their faces.

"Have you heard from Margaidh since I spoke to you this morning?" Natasha asked. "No-one seems to have seen her all day."

Kristen shook her head, and she felt the blood drain from her face. "Jesus Christ," she whispered. "You don't think…" _she could have done something stupid. Kristen could not bring herself to voice her fears._

Phelan understood, and he put his hands on her shoulders. "Try not to worry. I am sure she will not have done anything like that."

Kristen felt her mouth go dry. "You know she has been drinking heavily since she got back from Hyperion."

Phelan frowned, glanced at Natasha who nodded.

"We have to find her," Kristen said, her voice rising along with a rising sense of panic.

"We will find her, Kristen," Natasha said kindly. "I already have search parties out looking for her."

"But… the _Dire Wolf is massive. It will take hours, days, to search it thoroughly." Kristen suddenly recalled the day after Margaidh's accident, when she had visited her in hospital. Margaidh had told her of the day she had found her mother only just in time to save her from a suicide attempt._

Kristen began to tremble, and for a moment she felt as though she wanted to cry, but her mind was racing too fast for that. _Jesus Christ! Please don't be dead, Mags. I couldn't bear to lose you.She screwed her eyes shut, and saw in her minds eye a large round window with stars behind it. The image made her gasp._

Phelan squeezed her shoulders. "What is it, Kristen?"

Kristen stared wide-eyed at him for a moment. "I think I know where she might be!" she said, starting to run for the exit. "Hurry!"

By the time Kristen reached the observation lounge, she felt as though she had run for hours, then when she finally arrived, with Phelan and Natasha running behind her, Kristen's legs gave way and she gave a long moan of despair. "Oh my God, we're too late!"

Margaidh was lying on her back, her eyes closed and her face so pale it seemed to be almost blue. She neither moved nor made even the faintest sound. By her side lay an empty whisky bottle and beside that was a silver dagger, its hilt shaped like a wolf, and its blade bearing a dark bloodstain.

Kristen collapsed into Phelan's arms and he tried his best to comfort her as she sobbed uncontrollably. Natasha had knelt by Margaidh's side, kicking the bottle aside and pressing her fingers to the girl's neck while she picked up the dagger with her other hand. "I've got a pulse. It's weak, but she's still alive." She rolled up Margaidh's sleeves and looked at her wrists. A deep cut on one still welled blood while the other was untouched. "Looks like she got partway there and chickened out."

Natasha pulled a communicator from her pocket and flipped it open. "Medical emergency, deck one, section, um…" she frowned. "Thirty-five aft. I think."

"See, Kristen, I told you it would all be okay," Phelan said, kneeling on the deck and cradling Kristen in his arms, holding onto her even after the medical team had come to collect Margaidh and take her to sick-bay.As her sobbing subsided, he wiped away her tears and brushed a lock of red hair away from her face. "It is time to go. Margaidh needs you."

_7th April 3052_

Slowly, painfully, Margaidh opened her eyes and blinked against the sudden light. At first she thought she was still in the observation lounge but she gradually became aware of being in a bed, and of the crisp smell she recognised as sick bay's disinfectant.Then she became aware of someone holding her hand, and she turned to see Kristen there, looking haggard and drawn but smiling as Margaidh slowly awakened.

"I thought I'd lost you, Mags," Kristen whispered. "What you have to do a dumb fool thing like that for?"

Margaidh frowned, then remembered why she'd been in the observation lounge, and a sick feeling of depression flooded over her. She looked down at her left wrist that was wrapped in a bandage, and her mouth went dry. _Mother of gods! Can I get nothing right any more?She swallowed hard and looked up at Kristen, opened her mouth to speak but couldn't._

"Doctor Jordan let me stay with you all night," Kristen said, the tears running down her cheeks now tears of relief. "But he made Domask and Natasha wait outside. I think they're real mad."

_I'm not surprised.Margaidh managed a faint smile._

"Phelan is here too. He was with us when we found you." Kristen bit her lip. "Christ, Mags, why didn't you tell me?"

Margaidh squeezed Kristen's hand. "You know I love you, Kris," she whispered.

"Of course I do," Kristen replied.

"I'm sorry. Forgive me."

"You dumb fool, Mags. I forgive you."

Margaidh started to cry, and as Kristen held on to her, all the pain and anguish that had built up over the past weeks came flooding out. 

Natasha Kerensky stood quietly by the door, her expression as dark as a thundercloud, and when Margaidh's sobbing began to subside she strode towards the bed. "I knew that taste for scotch was going to get you into trouble," she said sternly. "As of today, young woman, you are drying out. I am too young to waste my time wiping up after the likes of you, and I do not want to experience a repeat of what you put me through yesterday."

Margaidh felt herself flush, but it was a flush of rage rather than embarassment. "What I put you through? What about what I've been put through for the past year and a half? I think I deserve a drink now and again."

Natasha shook her head and sat on the bed. "A drink now and again does not bother me. But Kristen has told me you've ploughed through half a bottle a day since you got back from Hyperion. In my book, that's one hell of a habit, and if it continues, there ain't no way you're going to test out."

"I wouldn't have tested out anyway, so I figured it didn't matter," Margaidh said, her rage boiling away to nothing. "Didn't matter how much I drink, didn't matter if I slashed my wrists."

"It sure as hell mattered to Kristen!" Natasha snapped. "And if you took half a minute to stop being so bloody selfish, you would have realised that. Then you would have thought of a whole lot more people to whom it matters whether you live or die. Believe it or not, and right now I'm not sure I do, there are people aboard this ship who care about you."

Margaidh sighed, and closed her eyes. _I know you are wrong, Natasha. But right now I don't have the energy to argue._

Natasha spoke again, and this time there was no anger in her voice. "As a matter of fact, Margaidh, I think it matters to me more than anyone." Margaidh looked at the older woman, her eyes narrowed. "It was my fault, I think."

"What do you mean?" Margaidh whispered.

"You remember the fall you took on your last day on Hyperion?"

Margaidh groaned, and screwed her eyes tight shut. That was the last thing about which she wished to be reminded.

Natasha put a reassuring hand on Margaidh's arm. "It wasn't your fault that you couldn't get your Mech back on it's feet. One of the leg actuators had seized out."

Margaidh shook her head. "There was no sign of a malfunction. All the instruments registered only armour damage."

"Some of the damage control sensors were shot out too. It only showed up on the battleroms. Domask almost didn't get it upright himself, he was lucky. I knew it wasn't your fault, we both did, we just didn't tell you." Natasha took a deep breath, and smiled. "Listen kid, there is nothing wrong with your ability to pilot a Mech. All we're waiting for now is for you to start believing in yourself again."

_Aboard the Dire Wolf_

_Assault orbit, Lothan_

_16th April_

Wolf Clan forces for the invasion of Lothan were bid down to just the 328th Assault Cluster, but the Second Kavalleri of the Free Rasalhague Republic were no match, and before nightfall they had surrendered. 

Margaidh waited anxiously for news of Domask. He and the rest of his star had been temporarily re-named the 'Lion's Strikers' and been outfitted with lighter Mechs for a sneak assault on the Kavalleri base at Tronsk. She knew they were all unhappy at having to pilot Mechs with which they were unfamiliar, but she knew too that the Kavalleri, expecting mostly heavy and assault Mechs, would be taken by surprise.

The last thing Margaidh expected was to see were Clan casualties coming aboard, and at first she feared that the Lion's Strikers had succumbed to the Kavalleri at Tronsk.She saw Star Colonel Athen Kederk, looking weary and dabbing at a nasty-looking cut over his right eye. A knot of anxious-looking mechwarriors tried to usher him off to get treatment for it, but he impatiently shoo-ed them away. His concern was for those who were more seriously hurt than himself.

Margaidh resisted the urge to ask Kederk what had become of the Strikers, but then she saw Domask with the rest of his star, all grinning broadly. Margaidh's tension vanished, and she hurried to greet him.

"Domask! Are you okay? How did it go?"

Domask gave Margaidh a wolfish grin, and draped an arm around her shoulder. "Glad it is all over. I never, _ever want to take a __Nova into combat again." He wiped sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his jacket. "Even modified with six pulse lasers instead of twelve extended range ones, it runs far too hot. Give me a __Timber Wolf every time."_

"Did you win?"

Domask nodded. "Of course we won. We ran them ragged. Some of the Kavalleri gave the others a bit of trouble at Saldhana, but they could not hold up once we had driven them into the Kandalaksha mountains. They all surrendered before nightfall."

Margaidh smiled, then glanced to where someone on a stretcher was being carried at speed towards the sick-bay. "Do you know who was hurt?" Margaidh asked. Domask frowned, and shook his head, and Margaidh brushed a lock of black hair from his face. "I was worried. I thought it might have been you."

Domask's frown melted into a smile. "I am fine," he said. "There is plenty of life in the old dog yet."

The assault on Lothan had claimed no fatalities among the Wolf Clan, and most of the injuries were minor ones. Kederk had been ordered off-duty for a few days as a precaution against concussion, most of the others were able to return to duty almost immediately. Only one Mechwarrior had been seriously injured, and when Domask told Margaidh about it, she felt her stomach coil into a sick knot.

"It is Vincent," he said, his expression grave. "He is in surgery right now."

"What happened to him?"

"His right hand has been crushed. The rumour is that he will lose it."

Margaidh closed her eyes and took a deep breath to quell the sudden wave of nausea that washed over her.She shook her head in disbelief and went to the window, looking at the blue and white disk that was Lothan, shining in the light of its pale sun.

"You do not have to feel pity for him," Domask said. "After the way he has treated you."

Margaidh shook her head. "I know what he must be feeling, not knowing if he will ever pilot a Mech again. I cannot wish that even on my worst enemy."

Domask shrugged. "Vincent is in the best possible care. Even if he does lose his hand, replication treatment of the sort you had will be able to replace it."

"I am not sure whether knowing that makes me feel better, or worse," Margaidh replied. She turned to Domask and forced a smile. "I will not deny that at times I have wished Vincent dead. But even so, I made a promise that one day I would get even with him, and if his injury proves crippling, I will not get that chance." She paused. "I am not even sure I would want to."

"If I know Vincent, I am sure he will do everything to ensure you get your chance for revenge. Even if you have to tie both hands behind your back to make it an even fight."Domask joined Margaidh by the window, and put his arms around her. "But I suspect the uppermost thing on Vincent's mind is that he will miss Tukayyid."

Margaidh sensed Domask's excitement when he spoke of the forthcoming battle that would, one way or another, be the single most decisive factor in the Clans' invasion of the Inner Sphere. ComStar had negotiated with ilKhan Ulric Kerensky to fight a proxy battle on Tukayyid, in which all the invading Clans would fight not against the Successor Houses but against the military might of ComStar itself. Tukayyid would be a proxy battle for Terra; if the Clans won ComStar would hand Terra over without further resistance. But if ComStar won, the invasion would be halted for a full fifteen years.

The battle for Tukayyid was due to start on the First of May. Margaidh thought it was rather ironic that such an important battle should begin on the same day as the ancient Celtic festival of Beltane. A festival that normally proclaimed life and fertility would now be a scene of bloodshed and death. 

Margaidh wondered vaguely if the battle would be finished in time for her Trial of Position, which was scheduled for May 15th. She knew Clan Wolf was preparing for a long and protracted engagement, but she knew too that the other Clans had forced Clan Wolf to delay their own participation until six days after the start of the battle. They were anticipating swift victory, with Clan Wolf having no opportunity to share in the others' glory.

Neither she nor anyone else could predict what the outcome would be, Margaidh was certain about one thing. No matter what the result, or how long it took to achieve it, nothing would be the same once it was all over.

* * *


	13. 22 May 3052

_21 days of fighting._

_Clan Diamond Shark: 38 percent dead. 44 percent wounded. Both objectives lost._

_Clan Ghost Bear: 25 percent dead. 22 percent wounded. One of two objectives won._

_Clan Jade Falcon: 20 percent dead. 41 percent wounded. One of two objectives won._

_Clan Nova Cat:44 percent dead. 39 percent wounded. Both objectives lost._

_Clan Smoke Jaguar: 30 percent dead. 60 percent wounded. Both objectives lost._

_Clan Steel Viper: 9 percent dead. 29 percent wounded. Both objectives lost._

_Clan Wolf: 20 percent dead. 15 percent wounded. Both objectives won._

_ _

_Com Star: 40 percent dead. 42 percent wounded. Overall victory._

_Aboard the Dire Wolf_

_Tukayyid_

_22nd May 3052_

Silence hung over the Dire Wolf like a death shroud. Those who had remained aboard, and those lucky enough to return, spoke only in hushed whispers, their eyes downcast and their faces pale and haggard. There was no-one aboard who could not name many friends and colleagues among the dead and wounded.

Margaidh sat on her bunk staring at the floor. On the desk was a tray of food that Kristen had brought her, but Margaidh had no appetite. It was not food she needed to fill the emptiness inside. She longed for a drink, but she knew that even alcohol would not be able to numb the pain she was feeling. Four days ago she had been informed that Star Commander Domask Lewis was dead, and since then she had not eaten. She had not even been able to cry.

Even when Kristen came back into the room, Margaidh neither moved nor spoke. She did not even seem to notice her red-haired friend. Kristen went to the sink, washed her face in cold water and then tossed the untouched food tray into the recycling bin. She sat down beside Margaidh and looked at her, thinking how pale she looked.

"You must eat, Mags, or you'll get sick," Kristen said quietly, taking Margaidh's hand in her own.

Margaidh shook her head and looked at Kristen. When she saw Kristen's red-rimmed eyes she frowned, and touched her face. "You've been crying, Kris," she said quietly.

Kristen nodded and looked away. "Jasmine died an hour ago, in sickbay." Kristen swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. "She never regained consciousness."

Margaidh let out a long sigh and closed her eyes. "Gods, Kris, I'm sorry." She embraced Kristen, and held onto her while she cried. _So much death and grief. Why can't I cry for you, Domask?_

After a while, Kristen composed herself, her sobbing now reduced to a quiet sniffle. Margaidh stood and walked across to the window. She wanted to look at the planet, but her view was of only stars against a dark sky. Tukayyid was hiding its face.

"Damn those _stravag snakes!" Margaidh exclaimed, slamming both fists against the bulkhead. "I will never forgive ComStar for what they have done! __Never!"And with a growl of rage and frustration she ran out of the cabin, slamming the door behind her._

Margaidh had no idea where she was headed until she arrived in the Mech bays. It seemed difficult for her now to believe that these bays once housed the finest fighting machines the Inner Sphere had ever faced. Now they were home to little more than piles of junk, and one stall in three was vacant. When Margaidh saw the empty stall where Domask's _Timber Wolf would normally stand, she felt her stomach knot with pain._

_Of course there would be no salvage from his Mech. The destruction from a breached fusion reactor would have been absolute. At least it happened quickly. He would have felt nothing._

"Margaidh? What are you doing here?"The voice was stern, and familiar.

Margaidh turned round and saw Natasha Kerensky, dressed in her usual black and red jumpsuit. She wore no make-up, her hair was drawn back into a tight ponytail and it seemed to Margaidh that the Khan looked suddenly very old.She narrowed her eyes at Margaidh, her expression softened into sympathy. "Are you okay, kid?"

Margaidh nodded, and forced a smile.

"You look like you need a strong black coffee." Natasha gave Margaidh a friendly pat on the back, and steered her to the little canteen adjoining the Mech Bays where Technicians took their tea-breaks. Margaidh did not have the energy to argue, and she obediently sat at a table while Natasha fetched two cups of coffee.It was strong, and sweet, just as Margaidh liked it, and she sat sipping it in silence for a while. 

"I know it hurts, kid," Natasha said, putting a reassuring hand on Margaidh's own. "And I know the last thing you want me to say is _you'll get over it, because right now you're thinking you never will."_

Margaidh frowned, and looked at Natasha, wondering if the older woman had suddenly become telepathic. "I still can't believe he's gone," she said, her voice shaking. "I keep expecting to see him walking around the corner with a smile on his face."

Natasha sighed, and took a sip of coffee. "I know the name of every one of our warriors who never came back from Tukayyid. Every time I close my eyes I can see their faces, just kids, most of them. Domask Lewis was one of the best."

"Domask wasn't a kid," Margaidh replied, looking at her coffee cup.

"I was old when Domask's mother was in diapers," Natasha replied with a grin, but Margaidh did not smile at the joke and the Khan let the smile fade. "Listen to me Margaidh. Domask told me not so long ago how proud he was of you."

Margaidh gave a snort, and rubbed at her left wrist where an ugly red scar was a now constant reminder of her failings.

"No. Listen to me!" Natasha demanded, slapping the table with the flat of her hand. "I never knew you before your accident, but Domask told me a lot about you. He said you were stubborn, independent, determined to get what you wanted and make your mark in Clan society." She paused, took a sip of her coffee. "Do you remember the time I first saw you?"

Margaidh frowned. "On Strana Mechty, at the Council hearing, quiaff?"

"Aff." Natasha nodded. "When I first heard about your case, and your determination to become a Mechwarrior and win a bloodname even after breaking your back, I thought you were crazy. But then when I saw you, heard you speak, I could feel… something." Natasha clenched her fists in the air in front of her, as if grasping for something intangible. "I don't know what it is, or why you had so much of it. I just know that it will get you what you want, one day."

"I think I lost it somewhere along the way," Margaidh said quietly.

"Drowned it in cheap scotch," Natasha replied. She took hold of Margaidh's left hand and traced along the scar with her fingernail, just hard enough to make Margaidh feel the pain. "I know your Trial of Position had to be postponed, and no, I don't know when it will be now. Consider this an opportunity to do whatever you think you need to do to get yourself ready for it. Domask was proud of you right up to the end. Don't let him down now."

Natasha Kerensky let go of Margaidh's hand and stood up. "Do yourself a favour, Margaidh. Go and get a good hot meal inside of you. You're starting to look like a corpse yourself. I expect you to report back for training the day after tomorrow."

A smile gradually formed on Margaidh's face, and for the first time in over two months she didn't have to force it. "Aye,Khan Kerensky. I will be there."

_25th May 3052_

_Aboard the Dire Wolf_

_Tukayyid_

The silent, dark room with it's single point of light was familiar, and Margaidh smiled to herself, unseen by the people around her.The light illuminated a warrior dressed in the traditional mask and fur cape, and before him stood another foundling. The foundling was a young man, tall and dark-haired, looking as confused as Margaidh had done when she was in his position.

His name, as introduced by Natasha Kerensky, was Ian, though a plain name like that didn't suit him much. He looked too much the rogue, with his hair hanging long and loose, and a mischievous glint in his eye. His reflexes were as razor-sharp as the swords he dodged without even breaking a sweat.

One by one, challengers came forward to oppose Ian's inclusion, and one by one Wolf warriors stepped forward to defend him. The last one wore a familiar grey mask which he removed, and fixed Khan Kerensky with a proud stare.

"I recognise thee, Phelan Ward of the Wolves," she said.

Margaidh smiled, feeling a surge of delight that Phelan had succeeded in winning his bloodname only days before.By winning that honour at the age of twenty, he'd beaten Natasha's record by two years, but judging by the smile she returned to him, Margaidh guessed she didn't much mind.

As the ceremony came to a close, and Ian was proclaimed a Wolf, his sponsor stepped foward to congratulate him. It was unusual for a potential mechwarrior like Ian to be sponsored by an Elemental, but apparently Ian had saved the big guy's life on Tukayyid, and there's always a first time for everything.

After the ceremony, a party was held to celebrate Ian's adoption, and Phelan's success in the Bloodtrials.As Margaidh arrived with Kristen, she scanned the room for sign of people she recognised, and was relieved to see several.Phelan was there, involved in an animated conversation with Ian and Alek, and another young mechwarrior she didn't recognise.Ranna was talking with Natasha Kerensky, who was sprawled on a sofa with a beer bottle in one hand.Near the door, Vincent stood alone, watching everyone else having fun.His right arm still up in a sling, he looked as dangerous as a wounded bear.Other people she didn't recognise were chatting in their own little knots, or else they were making half-hearted attempts at dancing to some unfamiliar music.

Ignoring Vincent, Margaidh and Kristen moved towards the drinks table, but before they got there, Phelan spotted them, and invited them into his little group, to introduce them to the Clan's newest recruit.

Ian smiled at Margaidhand she shook his hand. "Welcom to the Clan, Ian," she said with a smile.

He pulled a face. "My friends call me Cowboy," he replied with a grin. "As do my enemies. Only my mother calls me Ian."His accent was odd, but she couldn't place it.

She nodded. "Cowboy, then."

Phelan then introduced her to the other mechwarrior, whose name was Bertram. He seemed to be a friend of Alek's. Bertram was slim, though beside Alek he looked almost obese. He was the quiet sort, and seemed to be taking everything in with his pale, penetrating eyes.The two had recently tested out on their Trials of Position.Margaidh thought of Michael, who would probably have taken his Trial by now, and she wondered if he had been successful too.

"So even more of us have reasons to celebrate," said Phelan, looking at Bertram and Alek."Congratulations."

The two young warriors nodded, and Alek started to describe his Trial in great detail. Cowboy rolled his eyes at the young women."I think this is going to be a long story," he said. "Shall we leave them to it?"

Kristen nodded, and they moved off towards the drinks table again. Kristen and Cowboy both helped themselves to beers, while Margaidh chose something suitably abstentious.She ached for a double scotch, but knew if she succumbed to the temptation, Natasha Kerensky would kick her all the way to Strana Mechty.

Cowboy glanced at Margaidh's drink, which was a yellowish cocktail of some unrecogniseable fruits, and raised an eyebrow."From the look on your face, I'll bet that's not your favourite tipple."

She nodded, and took a sip of the drink. It was sharp-tasting, not too sweet, and slightly spicy. "I'm under orders to stay off the hard stuff," she explained. "I got… too close to the edge."

Cowboy frowned, so Margaidh rolled up her sleeve and showed him the scar on her wrist. "Ah," he said, flushing with embarrassment. "I hope I haven't put my foot in it."

"No, it's okay," she said, and took another sip of the drink. "Actually, it doesn't taste as horrid as it looks."

For once, Cowboy looked anything but relaxed, so she hurriedly changed the subject."I gather from your accent that you're not Commonwealth-born. Where are you from?"

"It doesn't matter where I come from. It's where I'm going that matters."

Margaidh scowled at him, irritated by the way he evaded her question. "Where you come from always matters," she replied. "That's what makes you what you are now."

He opened his mouth to give an angry retort, then his frown faded to a wistful smile. "I know. I just don't like admitting to myself that I owe anything to my past. If I hadn't made a decision that I deserved something better, I would now be looking forward to a life of ploughing and planting on a small farm on an insignificant planet in the middle ofthe Free Worlds League."

"Sounds like fun," Margaidh replied, heavy on the sarcasm. "So how did the Wolves get you?" she asked with a frown. "They're not raiding Marik space already, are they?"

Cowboy shook his head."I won a _Wolverine in a poker game, and taught myself to use it, with a bit of help. So I left the farm and joined a band of mercenaries. Actually I've been in a string of mercenary companies, none of them particularly successful. We had a spat with another company, and I lost my mech, and since then I've been hunting for another. I heard rumours about some Lostech out beyond the Periphery, so I went out to find it."_

"Did you find it?" Kristen asked, her eyes wide.

Cowboy grinned at her and pointed with his thumb at Alek and his colleagues. "I think it found me.So what about the two of you? I've told you about me, now it's your turn."

Margaidh clamped her mouth shut and looked at her drink, suddenly conscious of the scar on her wrist, as though it was burning.

Kristen gave a shrug. "Not much to tell about me, I'm afraid. My father's a Mechwarrior, Mum's a journalist. They split up when I was five. I joined the First Lyran Regulars, I got captured by the Wolves, and I now I'm a spannerjock."

Cowboy's eyebrows raised. "Don't you miss being a Mechwarrior?"

"Not really," Kristen replied with a shrug. "I'm a bit of a coward at heart."

"What about you?" Cowboy asked, turning in Margaidh's direction.

She felt herself flush. "You don't want to hear my sordid story," she replied.

"Yes I do. I want to know where you come from," he said, narrowing his eyes.

Margaidh frowned, angry that Cowboy had used her own argument against her. "I come from paradise, and I went to hell and back," she said.

"I'm sorry," Cowboy replied. "Look, if you don't want to talk about it, I don't mind."

Margaidh's frown became a smile. "Maybe another time."

"I'll tell you about Margaidh," Kristen said quietly.Margaidh felt herself flush, and she hissed a protest at Kristen but it was ignored.

"Mags is the best friend I've ever had," Kristen continued. "and she's the bravest, most exceptional woman I've ever known." That made Margaidh blush even more, and she hid her face behind her hand.

"When I first met her, she was already a bondsman, and I hated her because she settled in so well, and I didn't. I thought she was a traitorous coward. Worse, I had to share a room with her. But then Domask Lewis, the guy she was bonded to, got himself in a bit of a pickle and she saved his life. She took a Mech into combat, knowing its weapons were inoperative, and she still won."

Kristen's voice faltered. "She didn't come back that day, and I found out later that she'd been hurt inthe fight, and was in the local hospital. I thought she'd just be a bit bashed up, but when I got there, they told me she'd broken her back and wouldn't walk again, let alone pilot a Mech."

Cowboy stared first at Kristen, then at Margaidh. His eyes were wide with surprise.

"I knew I was wrong then," Kristen said. She looked at Margaidh, and held her hand. Margaidh looked back with a sort of 'I'll kill-you-for-this' expression."She was no coward. And she didn't deserve to finish her career like that. But the Clan has ways of sorting things out, and they said they could repair the damage. So they did."

"I gather it worked, then," Cowboy said.

Kristen nodded. "She went into surgery, and I stayed by her for two solid weeks while she was kept sedated. When she woke up, we all thought she would get straight back onto her feet, but it didn't work like that. It was so slow. She had to learn to walk all over again. It took more than a year.I could hardly bear to see her pushing herself so hard.She wouldn't give up."

"I wouldn't have done it without you," Margaidh said, squeezing Kristen's hand. "I'd be still in a wheelchair. Or I'd be dead."

"It wasn't me," Kristen replied, now speaking to Margaidh rather than Cowboy. "It was you, and that damn stubbon Lewis streak you've got. And a little help from Domask, and Phelan Ward, and Khan Kerensky."

Cowboy raised his eyebrows. "Woah. Powerful friends," he said. "You must be very fond of this guy Domask."

Margaidh looked at Cowboy, and nodded. A single tear trickled down her cheek. "He died a week ago, on Tukayyid."

"Jeez. I'm sorry," Cowboy apologised.

"I have to succeed now," Margaidh said. "Not just for me, or my name, but for him. He had so much faith in me, even when no-one else did."

Cowboy looked at her, and smiled. "I really hope you make it, Margaidh."

_June 13th3052_

_Aboard the Dire Wolf_

_Diosd_

Margaidh was in the canteen, eating breakfast alone after an exhausting early morning training session.Her attention was divided equally between her food and a small holovid screen she held in her hand, displaying an analysis of the last simulator battle, so she did not see Vincent approach her table until he had pulled up a chair and sat down.

Hearing the scrape of the chair on the floor, Margaidh looked up, startled. She went pale when she saw who had chosen to join her.Vincent smiled at her, though his eyes remained stern.

"Good morning Star Commander," Margaidh said politely, to break the tense silence."I trust you are well," she added, glancing at his gloved hand in the sling.

"I am," Vincent replied, equally politely. "And your training is satisfactory also, quiaff?"

"Aff."Margaidh put down her fork and looked quizzically at Vincent. It was not in his nature to make idle conversation."Is there something you wish to talk to me about, Star-Commander?" she asked.

Vincent slowly nodded. "We are two of a kind, you and I," he said. "Locked in a battle against the odds." He cast a glance over his shoulder to ensure no-one was nearby, and he lowered his voice. "My recovery is not proceeding as well as I had anticipated. I can now appreciate what you have been through. I believe my judgement of you may have been… hasty."

Margaidh slowly smiled. Could this be true? The arrogant, egotistical and contemptuous Vincent admitting he was wrong?"Am I to believe you are making an apology?"

Vincent shrugged. "In truth, my argument was with Domask, not you. Now he is dead…" He emphasised that last word, and Margaidh flinched to be reminded of it. "Nevertheless, there is still the matter of my defeat at the Council of Wolves. It would not be proper of me to let that rest."

Margaidh narrowed her eyes at Vincent. "There is also the matter of your attack on me. It would not be proper of _me to let __that rest."_

"Then we truly are two of a kind," Vincent said with a smile. This time, Margaidh could see the smile in his eyes as well as on his lips. "I look forward to settling our disputes in the manner of warriors. Assuming, of course, that you achieve such honour."

"Of course," Margaidh replied, resuming her breakfast.

Vincent pushed back his chair and stood up to leave. As an afterthought, he turned back to face Margaidh. "One more thing," he said. "I heard a rumour that Phelan has invited his father to visit, and that Colonell Kell has accepted. Comstar's Precentor Martial has been most accommodating."

Margaidh's fork clattered onto her plate and she stared at Vincent, but he said nothing more before turning and walking away.She left her breakfast half-finished and hurried off towards Phelan's quarters. If Vincent was telling the truth, then it presented her with a means of passing a message to her mother. On the other hand she still did not trust Vincent, despite his apparent change of demeanour, and she needed to find out for certain.

But when she arrived at Phelan's cabin, the door was open and the room was empty. She stepped inside and saw that not only was Phelan not present, but all of his belongings were gone too. The room was bare, except for the regulation furnishings, and one large box on the table.She frowned, and as she turned to leave she bumped into Evantha Fetladral, an Elemental and friend of Phelan's. She nodded at Margaidh, grinned, and picked up the box with ease.

"Where is Phelan?" Margaidh asked her."Is he leaving?"

Evantha shook her head. "Neg. But Khan Kerensky has instructed him to move into new quarters. Ones more suited to the _sa-Khan. So he is taking over the late Garth Radick's room, as well as his job."_

"Phelan is the _sa-Khan? Since when?"_

"Since late last night."

"Can I see him? Or do I have to make an appointment?"

Evantha grinned at Margaidh. "Phelan is many things, but he is not pretentious. There is no need for his friends to make appointments."

So Margaidh accompanied Evantha to Phelan's new room. It was bigger than the previous one, but it looked like the aftermath of a battle. Scrambling through the piles of boxes, Phelan and Ranna were attempting to make the room look less like Radick's and more like Phelan's.

"Where shall I put this?" Evantha asked, holding a box full of books. Phelan glanced around for a patch of floor space and frowned. "On the table, I think," he said. Then he noticed Margaidh and smiled at her. "Hi, Margaidh. I am glad you are here, I could use an extra pair of hands."

Margaidh grinned at Phelan. "Of course, my Khan," she said.

Phelan rolled his eyes. "Don't rub it in," he said. "I haven't gotten used to it yet."

"Well, congratulations anyway."She started to help him unpack his things, and with Evantha helping to clear away Radick's boxes, they were finished in an hour. Ranna made coffee, and they sat on comfy sofas drinking it, and talking about Phelan's new role.Everyone agreed that for an Inner Sphere, freeborn warrior to achieve such a position at the age of just twenty was remarkable. Only Phelan remained modest.

When Evantha and Ranna at last decided it was time to go, Margaidh hung back, to talk to Phelan alone."Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course," Phelan replied. He noticed that Margaidh seemed ill-at-ease. "Is something wrong?"

Margaidh shook her head. "I spoke with Vincent this morning."

"He's not giving you hassle again, is he?"

"No. Actually he was uncharacteristically civil. But he said something about you having invited your father to visit the Clan. Is that true?"

Phelan smiled. "It is, Margaidh.He will be coming in August."

Margaidh felt her heart pounding. "Colonel Kell could pass on a message to my mother…"

"I am sure he would be happy to," Phelan said.

Margaidh slowly smiled. "Maybe one day, she will be allowed to visit too. I miss her."

Phelan put an arm around her. He could share her feelings, having been out of touch with his family for so long. But now, for both of them, an end to the waiting was in sight.


	14. 15 August 3052

_August 15th3052_

_Wolf Clan base, Endlar City,_

_Diosd_

The ship bringing the leader of the Kell Hounds arrived discreetly, and its occupants disappeared into the depths of the Dire Wolf, for a secret meeting with the two Wolf Khans.Margaidh knew there would be an emotional reunion between Phelan and his parents, and it was only fair to allow them that time alone. But as she paced back and forth in her room, she willed them to finish, and call for her.

In her hand was a data chip, containing a recording for her mother. She had finished it only the day before, having changed it over and over again since she first started it six weeks ago. It had been hard knowing what to include and what to miss out. In the end, she had cut it and trimmed it, and the final edition was shorter than she had hoped. She had omitted everything about her accident and struggle to reain fitness; she knew that would be too upsetting for her mother. And she had briefly glossed over the battles with the Falcons, but she had spoken at length about Domask, and about how she had settled in with the Clan. She hoped her mother would not see her as a traitor.

Kristen too was silent. She had chosen not to contact her own family, and Margaidh could not understand Kristen's decision.She sat down beside Kristen, held her hand.Kristen looked fondly at Margaidh, brushed her cheek with her finger. "Don't worry about my family, Mags. It's my problem, not yours."

"I wish you'd tell me what the problem was. You have parents, a brother… why won't you contact them?"

Kristen sighed, and for a long while she said nothing. "My family are all… loyal Lyrans. Complete with Lyran prejudices. Hate Kuritans, hate Skye Seperatists, probably by now hate the Clans. And hate cowards too."

Margaidh frowned. She knew all too well what Kristen meant by Lyran prejudice.

"My family all think I died on Ridderkerk. They think I died a hero, defending the Commonwealth from the enemy. It's best left that way."She smiled, and gave Margaidh a kiss. "You're the only family I want, Mags."

They embraced, but were interrupted by the bleep of the communicator panel. Margaidh switched it on and Phelan's image smiled broadly at her. "Hi, Margaidh," he said.

Margaidh smiled back. "Hi. How did the reunion go?"

"Great. I think my parents are a bit overawed with everything. It got a bit emotional."

"How are you?"

Phelan shrugged. "Bearing up. Listen, I'd like to invite you and Kristen round to dinner this evening. My father is keen to meet you."

"You told him about me?" Margaidh was surprised. "And he _still wants to meet me? You must have told him a lot of lies."_

Phelan shrugged and shook his head. "Nineteen-thirty hours in the Khan's reception rooms."

Margaidh smiled. "We'll be there."

Margaidh went alone to the dinner. Kristen preferred not to attend, for fear of being asked awkward questions about her own family.When Phelan enquired about her, Margaidh told him that Kristen was feeling under the weather, but she suspected that Phelan recognised that was not the entire truth.But he did not press the issue, and ushered Margaidh into the adjoining dining room to meet his father.

At first, Margaidh had been concerned that she would not recognise Morgan Kell, since she had only ever seen him once or twice on the news, and even then over two and a half years ago.But when she saw him, she recognised him immediately.He was tall and imposing, despite his years. His long dark hair was streaked with grey and drawn back into a neat ponytail. Beneath his grey beard he smiled warmly, and Margaidh recognised in his eyes the same look she saw in Phelan's. It was hard to imagine that he was sixty-seven years of age.

Beside Kell stood a woman, small but nonetheless still bearing an appearance of strength. Her short, auburn hair betrayed only the slightest trace of grey, and she too was smiling. Like Kell, she wore the uniform of the Kell Hounds, and Margaid knew this would be Salome Ward, Phelan's mother.

Phelan introduced them, and they shook hands. Kell's grip was strong and confident.

"I am honoured to meet you, Colonel Kell." Margaidh said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

"Likewise. Phelan has told me a lot about you. It seems you have made quite an impression on him."Kell smiled. "I had to see for myself if the stories were true."

Margaidh felt herself blush. "If they're good stories, then probably not."

They were interrupted then by the call for dinner, and took their places at the table. Margaidh had been placed next to Kell, at his request. Phelan sat between his mother and Ranna, and Natasha Kerensky was beside Ranna. The rest of the table was made up of members of Phelan's and Natasha's command, and a few Kell Hounds who had accompanied Morgan and Salome.

It was a meal fitting of a meeting between the leaders of the Wolves and of one of the Inner Sphere's most respected mercenary regiments. Margaidh, as an untested warrior with little status of her own, felt out of place and conscious that it was only her friendship with Phelan that had brought her into such company. It was hard to imagine that when she and Phelan had first met, he was no further up the ladder than she was now.And since he had become Khan, Margaidh wondered if their friendship could survive.

Morgan Kell interrupted her thoughts. "Would you prefer red wine or white?" he asked, pointing towards some bottles on the table.

Margaidh shook her head. "Neither, thankyou." She felt herself blush."I… don't drink alcohol."

"Oh. I do apologise." Kell poured a glass of red wine for himself, and another for his wife.

Margaidh smiled. "It's okay. It's hard sometimes. But I've been drinking far too much for far too long. It's a sacrifice I have to make, to get what I want."

"And what is that?" Kell asked.

"My name. I'm a Lewis, and I won't rest until I've won the right to bear that name again."

Kell frowned. "In a … trial of Blooright? Like when Phelan won the name of Ward?"

Margaidh nodded. "It's a bit of an uphill struggle. I have to take my Trial of Position first, to regain my status as a Mechwarrior. Even that has proved to be an almost insurmountable task."

Kell nodded. "Phelan told me about your accident, and your struggle to recover. Frankly, I'm amazed. You must have an iron will." He gave a chuckle. "We could use someone like you in the Kell Hounds.I wonder if your Khan would let you come back with us?"

The blood drained from Margaidh's face and she glanced at Phelan, but he was deep in conversation with Salome. The chance to go back, to be reunited with her mother, was one she had never dreamed was possible.But she no longer had a Mech, or a regiment to go to.At that moment, she realised just how much she had changed in the last two and a half years.

She gave a smile."Twenty-five years ago, your brother offered my mother a place in the Kell Hounds Battallion. She turned him down, because she already had a place to belong."She looked at Kell, and he reminded her of Phelan. "Your offer is a kind one, Colonel, but I must also refuse. I also have a place to belong, and that is here, with the Wolves. I want to finish what I've started."

Kell smiled, and nodded. "I can appreciate that. Imade the same offer to Phelan, and he turned me down too."

"I have made many good friends here, Colonel. Your son is one of them."

"It's glad I am to hear that," Kell replied. "I am proud of him." He fell quiet for a while. "I only hope that fate does not find us on opposite sides of a battlefield. While Phelan is with the Wolves, they are not my enemy."

_August 16th 3052_

_Wolf Clan Base, Endlar City_

_Diosd_

Margaidh powered up the _Mad Dog's engine and listend with satisfaction to it's hum. The sound was becoming a familiar one, as Margaidh was spending long hours in the cockpit of the Mech she had chosen for her Trial of Position. Phelan had tried to talk her out of her choice, claiming it was badly armoured and over-warm, but it was the Mech with which she was by now most familiar. She suspected the reason for its unpopularity with the Wolves was that the Jade Falcons liked it better._

As she marched out of the base and into the rolling countryside, she smiled. Having been cooped up in the Dire Wolf for so long, it was pleasant to take a mech out into a green, temperate landscape, especially one that reminded her of Skye.She glanced to her left, where a _Timber Wolf marched alongside her, and she switched on the radio, a closed link between herself and her partner._

"Ready, Cowboy?" she said.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Cowboy replied.Since he and Margaidh had discovered they would be testing out together, on September 12th, they had practised together as often as they could.

Margaidh grinned inside her neurohelmet. "I haven't played hide-and-seek since I was a kid. This is going to be fun."

"I never played hide-and-seek with real guns," Cowboy replied. "And I never played against Natasha Kerensky. We're going to get our butts kicked, you know that, don't you?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

The two Mechs advanced cautiously, their scanners active, searching for the six other Mechs that Margaidh knew were hiding out there. The rolling hills with their light wooded cover were making things difficult, and Margaidh knew it was going to be a close-in fight.

Margaidh scrutinised the Magscan display. It suddenly bleeped, and highlighted three Mechs concealed behind a ridge. A moment later, Cowboy spotted three more in a patch of woodland. "I'll take the ones in the trees," he said with a grin. "My SRMs are carrying Infernos."

"Roger that, Cowboy."

The _Timber Wolf moved off to intercept the Mechs in the trees while Margaidh continued to close in on the ridge. The smallest of the three Mechs, a __Nova,started to move around the ridge.The __Nova was configured with three pulse lasers in each arm, the way Phelan liked it, and Margaidh began to worry that he had found time to break off from being with his parents just to make her life complicated._

Before the smaller mech could get within the range of its medium lasers, Margaidh let off a volley of LRM fire that peppered both the _Nova, and the surrounding hillside, with missiles. The __Nova shrugged off the attack and closed in, while Margaidh backed her own Mech away. She wanted to keep the little pest out of range of those lasers, while still allowing her to use most of her own arsenal._

She fired both large lasers and felt the wave of heat they generated, but both beams passed ineffectively over the top of the _Nova. The small Mech moved quicker than her own, and no matter how much she tried, she could not prevent it from closing in on her. The __Nova raked her with laser fire, searing great chunks off her armour, but while it was this close it was vulnerable, and the second time, her lasers did not miss._

Armour fell from one of the _Nova's legs, and from the way it staggered, Margaidh felt certain she had done some internal damage too. But it did not give up, and kept on relentlessly slicing away at her mech with its lasers. At last though, weight and superior firepower won out over speed and the smaller mech eventually collapsed; it's left leg broken. _

Margaidh glanced to where Cowboy was engaged in a battle of his own.The trees were ablaze and all three of his opponents had scattered. Cowboy was up against a _Mad Dog of the same configuration as Margaid's own, she could see that he was doing well._

But Margaidh did not have long to contemplate her partner's position. A flight of LRMs from her second opponent rained onto her, and she was surprised to see not an Omni-mech, but an old _Archer lumbering towards her. Painted in blue and gold, it looked as pristine as if it was straight off the production line. Although it outweighed her own Mech by ten tons, and was as yet undamaged, Margaidh knew that her own Mech was still superior in almost every way._

As she released her own flight of missiles, she started to wonder where an old _Archer could have come from. Then she smiled and scolded herself. "Mags, you're an idiot. That's Morgan Kell!"_

The _Archer once again peppered her with missiles, and Margaidh glanced anxiously at the damage control screen. Bright red patches showed on the torso where armour had been breached. As she turned the __Mad Dog around to keep lock on the __Archer, she fired with both large lasers. Heat waved over her, but instead of dissipating as it usually did, it seemed to linger._

_Damn. Must have lost some heat sinks.She did not dare to consider the alternative possibility; that the engine core was breached._

The _Archer fired once more, and again Margaidh retaliated, but as her finger brushed the trigger, the computer's tinny voice spoke out. "Weapons offline. Please stand by."_

"Stand by my ass!" Margaidh snapped back. "I'm getting shot at here! I don't have time to wait for you to cool down!" She raced her Mech as fast as she dared for the cover of some light woodland.

It seemed like an age before the weapons cooled down sufficiently, but it was really no more than a few seconds. When they did, Margaidh used only the missiles. She did not want to cause further heat problems by using the lasers too soon. To her relief, the missiles found their mark and the _Archer staggered under the onslaught._

"Sorry, Colonel," Margaidh said aloud. "It's nothing personal."

But the _Archer was not beaten yet. Another volley of missiles went wide of the trees but as it closed in, the arms came to bear and a pair of lasers sliced through the trees as if they were dry grass. The ruby beams burrowed deep into the __Mad Dog's torso, and a whole panel of warning lights abruptly flashed._

"Warning… Engine core breached… Eject…" the computer said, in it's dispassionate voice. "Warning… Engine core breached… Eject…"

"I know, I know!" Margaidh replied, reaching for the ejection handles and pulling them hard.With a pop, the cockpit blew and the seat launched skywards, to return gently under parachute as the _Mad Dog was ripped apart._

Margaidh closed her eyes, breathed a great sigh of relief that was cut short by her impact with the ground. As she untangled herself from the parachute and the seat straps, she looked up at the burning Mech and shuddered at how close she had come to disaster. She could not bear to consider what might have happened if the ejection system malfunctioned, and she wondered if that had happened to Domask. Had he pulled on those handles, and experienced a brief moment of terror as he realised the canopy had failed to fire?

The _Archer stomped closer and came to a halt a hundred metres in front of her. Then it slowly bowed from the waist, in a manouver that looked much practised. Margaidh bowed back, hoping Kell could see her from up there.Then the __Archer's canopy lifted, a long chain-ladder was thrown out and Margaidh heard a familiar voice over the tannoy. "Do you need a ride home?" the Colonel asked._

"Aff!" Margaidh shouted back, and scrambled up the ladder. As she neared the top, she saw that Cowboy's mech had toppled and his fight was also over.The Colonel leaned from his seat to help Margaidh into the cockpit, and she strapped herself into the second seat behind the pilot."Thanks for the lift, Colonel," she said. "And thanks for the fight. It was… exhilarating."

Morgan Kell nodded. "Any time."

"Just one thing I need to know," Margaidh said. "Was Phelan in the _Nova?"_

"He was," Kell replied. "He said you were good, now I know you are. I thought you had me there, once or twice."

Margaidh smiled to herself as the _Archer stomped back towards Endlar. Compliment from Morgan Kell was compliment indeed, and Margaidh knew now she had the chance to succeed. But there was something else that needed to be sorted out before the trial._

_August 17th3052_

_Wolf Clan base, Endlar City,_

_Diosd_

Kristen knelt on the gantry beside a brand new _Mad Dog¸ her attention divided between a pile of technical manuals and one of the mech's long-range missile systems.Margaidh paced nervously back and forth beside her, looking at what Kristen was doing, but not understanding._

"Well? Can you do it?"

Kristen stood up and looked at Margaidh, scratching her head. "On my own, I don't know. I'm going to need help, I think."

Margaidh shook her head. "I don't want anyone else to know. If someone finds out about the modifications, word might leak back to my opponents and I'll lose my advantage."She kept to herself the information that she had heard on the grapevine; that Vincent had requested to be her second opponent, and the request had been granted. Margaidh suspected that he had leaked the information deliberately, to frighten her and gain an advantage. In truth, it was something she had always expected, but it made her forthcoming Trial doubly difficult. Normally the three opponents in a Trial of Position did not have a vested interest in making certain the cadet failed. She was amused, however, that Vincent had elected to fight second. It proved that he, at least, expected her to clear the first, and most important hurdle.

"I don't know why you can't use one of the standard variants," Kristen muttered with a shake of her coppery curls, "…if you don't like the Primary."

"But I do, that's the problem. I just want… a few problems ironed out."Margaidh knelt beside the books, frowned at them. "Do you think it would work?"

Kristen opened a panel on the side of the mech and peered into it with a flashlight. "It might, you know," she said, her voice sounding muffled. "But I fail to see how it's going to help. I would have thought that extra armour would be more useful than extra heat sinks."

"That's what I thought at first," Margaidh said. "But then I thought different. You see, everyone knows the _Mad Dog runs hot, and they play on that. Targeting engine and heat sinks, or forcing me to over-use the lasers. If I've got a couple of extra freezers in there, I won't be so vulnerable."_

"But replacing a twenty-pack LRM with a short-range six pack is going to weaken your long-range advantage."

"Not much," Margaidh replied. "I can't fire both missile packs and both large lasers together without overheating anyway."She put the book down, and placed her hand on the mech's camouflaged body. "I don't suppose you could paint it blue…?"

_August 23rd3052_

_Wolf Clan base, Endlar City,_

_Diosd_

Margaidh spent the rest of the week practising. Outside, she continued to practise with the _Mad Dog Primary, knowing that by now her opponents would have worked out her preference. But indoors, she had persuaded Phelan to re-program a simulator to imitate the new modification, so she could practise new tactics without prying eyes looking on. At the end of each session, she carefully backed up the battleroms onto a separate data-chip, and erased them from the simulator's memory._

She saw little of Phelan, and nothing more of Morgan and Salome, until the time came for the Kell Hounds to depart.She went to the dropship to say goodbye, and found that Phelan was already there. He was embracing his mother, who had tears in her eyes, while Morgan Kell gave his son a friendly pat on the back. Margaidh could tell that he too was fighting tears. Their visit had been too short for all of them.

When Kell saw Margaidh, he smiled, and beckoned her to join the group. "Have you changed your mind about my offer? Are you coming with us?"

Margaidh gave a smile and shook her head, leaving the Colonel looking crestfallen.

Phelan glanced at her. "The Clan would not stand in your way, Margaidh, if you wish to go," he said.

Margaidh shook her head. "I came to say goodbye, Colonel, and to ask a favour of you."She pulled a holo-disk from her pocket. "Phelan told me that you may find it possible to pass on a message to my mother, so I recorded this for her. She deserves to know that I am alive and well."

Kell took the disk in his hand. "Of course I will. That is a promise." He smiled and kissed her goodbye.Margaidh thanked him and then she quietly crept away, leaving Phelan and his parents to say their own final farewells in peace.

Phelan caught up with Margaidh later that afternoon, in the simulator room. She had finishedher days training and was studying the session recordings, analysing possible weaknesses. There were barely three weeks left until her Trial, and she was determined to be ready for it.

She did not notice Phelan until he had been sitting beside her for almost fifteen minutes, watching the recordings with her.

"Too cautious," Phelan said, making her jump with surprise.He pressed a button on the panel and the recording whirred backwards at high speed. "Here," he said, pointing at the screen. "You should have moved out of cover here, as the _Timber Wolfretreated."_

Margaidh frowned and shook her head. "Phelan, I'm fighting in a _Mad Dog.Armour like paper. Moving out of cover then would have been stupid."_

"No. The trick is to know when to take a gamble. If you play safe all the time, you will be defeated in the end."

Margaidh smiled, knowing he was right. "The _Timber Wolf was blindsided, right?" Phelan nodded, said nothing. Margaidh could tell his mind was on other things."Your parents got off okay?"_

"Aff. I wish it could have been longer."He paused. "Did you manage to ask my father about whether Dan Allard was…"

"No," Margaidh interrupted. "It would not be his place to say. That is a decision for my mother to make." She fell silent, recalling how difficult it had been not to ask the Colonel about her father. Phelan changed the subject.

"One thing I don't understand," he said. "Why did you turn down the chance to go back?"

Margaidh gave a long sigh, and looked at him. "I do not belong there any more," she replied. "I didn't realise that, until Colonel Kell offered me the chance and I realised I no longer wanted to go."She looked back at the screen, watching the unfolding of her battle with the _Timber Wolf."I am not the same Margaidh Lewis who went off to join the Rangers with a head full of hope and glory. I am Margaidh Wolf now. This is where I belong."_

Phelan was silent for a while, and he gave her a friendly kiss. "I am glad you decided to stay," he said. "We would all miss you."


	15. 12 September 3052

_September 12th 3052_

_Mousawl Range, Diosd_

Six hundred miles north of Endlar City the Mousawl mountains rose from the broad plains of Diosd. They were not great towering mountains but an assortment of low mesas and dry, rugged hills. There was cover and open ground in equal measure, and Margaidh frowned. In terrain like this, anything could happen.

Diosd's bright sun glared off the yellow sand, and despite the early hour the external temerature was already rising sharply. Margaidh was glad of the extra heat sinks her blue _Mad Dog carried; the last thing she needed was to fight against the environment as well as the three mechs._

A sizeable number of people had gathered at the edge of the arena. Some were techs making last-minute check-ups on the mechs, and some were friends or star-members of the combatants.Margaidh had studied each one carefully, analysing tactics and habits in the hope of finding something that would give her some slight advantage, but it was a fair bet her opponents had studied her too.

Cowboy came over to where she sat waiting for the proceedings to begin. He carried two mugs of steaming coffee and handed one to her.

"This whole thing reminds me of Solaris," he said. "All these cameras and spectators. You know they're taking bets on us, don't you?"

Margaidh nodded. Someone had already tried to persuade her to place a bet, without realising she was actually one of the triallists. "Did you place a bet?"

Cowboy grinned. "Of course I did. Two hundred creds on each of us, with a hundred-cred side bet that you take two." He took a sip of coffee. "Eight-to-one against me, eleven-to-one against you, and fifty-to-one against you getting the second. I couldn't resist odds like that. It's a dead cert."

Margaidh frowned. "Where did you find the cash for a five-hundred cred gamble?"

Cowboy shrugged. "Won it in a dice game last night."

"I hope this lucky streak of yours lasts a bit longer," Margaidh replied.

Cowboy gave her a pat on the back. "Hey, you don't need luck. You'll get through on pure skill."

Margaidh finished her coffee and smiled. "Well, we're just about to find out." She stood up and offered her hand to Cowboy."All the best, Cowboy."

"You too. Catch ya on the flipside."

They shook hands and each turned towards their own mechs, which were some distance apart along the side of the arena.When Margaidh arrived at the feet of the blue _Mad Dog, she gave Kristen an anxious glance, and prayed that the Mech was in good order. Kristen smiled, and threw her arms around Margaidh's shoulders. "Good luck, Mags," she said. "Don't go and get yourself hurt, I want you back in one piece."_

Margaidh smiled, kissed her and started to climb the ladder up to the cockpit. Funny how it seemed longer that day than it had the day before.It seemed to take longer still to settle herself in the cockpit, connect herself up and run through the 'pre-flight' checks.Longest of all was the wait, once everything was ready, for Khan Natasha Kerensky to give the signal to begin.

And then it started. With Natasha's signal, Margaidh made her first run towards a hill from where she knew she would be able to see her first opponent. As expected, it was a _Nova, but she could see from it's blocky arms that this was the variant she feared most. It carried two extended-range particle-projection cannons, and two anti-missile systems, backed up with a medium pulse laser for emergencies. She knew too that it carried jump jets, and while she piloted a mech that was groundlocked, that would be a big danger. Nevertheless, the __Nova was as heat-sensitive as the __Mad Dog, if not worse. That might be a weakness to exploit._

The _Nova opened fire with one PPC at the limit of its range, but while Margaidh remained partially concealed by the low hill she was difficult to hit and the beam passed by without danger. As the __Nova leaped in closer, Margaidh loosed off both large lasers, letting the extra heat sinks soak up the heat efficiently. As with the PPC, one of her lasers missed its mark but the other caught the __Nova on the right arm, stripping off large slabs of armour._

The _Nova jumped again, and like a flea it was proving difficult to hit as it kept close to the limit of its range After Margaidh made several more attempts with both lasers and missiles, she decided it was time to try and lure it in. So she turned her own Mech and sprinted towards where a cluster of mesas separated by narrow gulleys afforded better cover. The __Nova, now unable to target the __Mad Dog, searched for a better vantage point. To Margaidh's irritation, the __Nova pilot seemed not to take the bait._

Just as Margaidh was about to give up and break from cover, the _Nova closed in and she took her chance.She fired her own large lasers at the same moment the __Nova fired both PPCs. This time, all four weapons found their marks.One of the lasers seared into the __Nova's left torso, the other burrowed into the centre.Again, ceramic armour melted and fell from the __Nova like sludge._

Her own mech was rocked backwards by the shock of the impact from two PPC hits.One took two-thirds of the armour from the _Mad Dog's right leg, the other did the same to the centre torso.Margaidh cursed; two more shots like that would end her Trial almost before it had started._

Taking advantage of what seemed to be a momentary lapse of concentration on behalf of the _Nova's pilot, Margaidh closed the distance yet further and fired again, targeting both lasers on the already damaged centre torso.The __Nova attempted to leap out of harm's way but it still took the impact of both lasers. One where Margaidh had intended still failed to penetrate to internal structure while the other, wide of its mark, struck by chance at the already damaged right arm. Margaidh willed the PPC to fall off, but it didn't._

Now she was in a bit of a fix. At such close range, the _Nova couldn't miss her, and she doubted that her Mech could survive another PPC onslaught. Her own lasers did less damage, and yet the __Nova was as well armoured as the __Mad Dog. Which meant that eventually, the __Nova would win. Unless…_

Phelan's words echoed in her mind. _The trick is to know when to take a gamble. She smiled, braced herself against the wave of heat she knew would wash over her, and she fired every weapon the __Mad Dog carried._

Heat scales soared into the red zone and the computer's irritating voice told Margaidh that systems were offline and shutdown was imminent. She ignored them, and instead concentrated on the _Nova.In the hail of laser and missile fire she could not be certain which weapons had hit. She knew the __Nova's anti-missile system had triggered, but as the smoke cleared she saw pock-marks in the __Nova's armour, so some at least had penetrated._

There was a protracted, painful silence. Margaidh waited, her heart in her mouth, knowing that if her attack did not work, she would very shortly be out of the race. The _Nova lifted one PPC and Margaidh held her breath, then with a creak the smaller mech began to lean sideways, and it crashed to the floor._

Margaidh almost cried with relief. But neither she nor her mech had much time to recover, because her next opponent was already running in to resume the fight.The mech's hunched-over appearance, with the cockpit slung low between the mech's shoulders, identified it to Margaidh as a _Linebacker even before her computer had tagged it as such, and she gave a growl of frustration.She had been expecting Vincent to be piloting his usual __Timber Wolf, he must have switched mechs at the last minute._

Even though the _Linebacker was a full five tons heavier than her own, it was still faster, and more heavily armoured, though these advantages were gained at the expense of weaponry.Nevertheless, with her own __Mad Dog already badly damaged, she would have to make her own weapons count, and quickly. Vincent had chosen his position well; he knew that in the light first Mech he would not have won, and in the third, he would likely not get the chance to fight her. _

Margaidh was somewhat relieved to discover that the _Linebacker was not the primary configuration carrying two PPCs backed up with missile systems. Instead, this one seemed to carry lasers in place of the PPCs; two large and two medium ones. With the limited amount of space available for weapons in the __Linebacker, Margaidh knew they would have to be the lighter Extended-Range lasers rather than the Pulse lasers her own mech carried.They had longer range and were half the weight of the Pulse lasers, but they generated more heat and were less accurate._

Swings and roundabouts. For every advantage there is a disadvantage. The skill of the warrior is to make best use of one's own advantages, while at the same time best exploiting the disadvantages of the enemy.

Vincent used his first advantage; two large lasers at long range, further than her own could reach. But with both mechs moving quickly, the beams went harmlessly wide of their mark, and burrowed into the ground. Margaidh closed the distance, and her own advantage found its mark; twenty long-range missiles and two large pulse lasers that did not miss.

Margaidh managed to lure Vincent into more rugged terrain where the extra cover would force him to come in closer, and she thought it a pity that her _Mad Dog had no jump-jets, that could counteract the __Linebacker's speed advantage in terrain like this._

She caught a glimpse of the _Linebacker through a gully and fired again, but this time she missed, and cursed as Vincent returned fire, it's two large lasers tearing again at her mech's armour. A warning light flashed in the cockpit, informing her that the long-range missiles were off-line. No matter, the SRMs streaked towards the __Linebacker and hammered into its blocky torso._

As the two mechs dodged through the mountains, both chipping away at one another, it seemed to Margaidh that she had the upper hand, despite losing the LRMs. Vincent seemed to miss more than she did, and this she put down to her mech having pulse instead of ER lasers. But despite this, it seemed that no matter how hard and how often she hit the _Linebacker, it just kept on coming, like an enraged bull elephant. _

The damage display panels in her own mech were becoming a mass of red lights as the _Linebacker continued to strip away at the __Mad Dog's armour.Vincent was fighting a battle of honour, and his intention was to kill,Margaidh knew that. Knowing her mech could not survive this onslaught for much longer, she fought hard, allowing the mech to run hotter than she normally would, even with the additional heat-sinks._

But even that was not enough. A willow tree, bent far enough and often enough, will eventually snap.In the end it was a single shot from a medium laser that did it. It tore into the _Mad Dog's right leg; already stripped bare of armour, and sliced through myomer muscles and endo-steel skeleton._

Margaidh fought to keep the _Mad Dog upright as it staggered sideways, suddenly unbalanced. The right leg gave way and no matter how hard Margidh battled with it, the mech crumpled to the floor. As it fell, she took one last shot with all four lasers, but she never saw where they landed as her mech tumbled and Margaidh screwed her eyes shut. When she opened them she saw only pale sky and a thin wisp of smoke through the cockpit window._

It was a long time before Margaidh dared to move. As her heartbeat gradually slowed and the exhilaration of battle became exhaustion, it was a few minutes before Margaidh realised that she had actually come through this thing alive and successful. Even though the _Linebacker had proved too much, she'd still got the __Nova, and that was enough to make her a Mechwarrior._

As that thought lingered, Margaidh started to laugh, and then with renewed energy she struggled with her seat straps and clambered out of the cockpit, to stand triumphantly on the chest of her fallen mech. To her left the _Linebacker stood silently in recognition of it's victory, and Margaidh turned to salute Vincent._

But when she looked at the _Linebacker, her salute froze and her smile became an expression of shock. The front of its torso was charred and blackened, and dark oily smoke curled from the cavity where the cockpit should have been._

When Margaidh arrived back at the arena's edge, she was surrounded by a knot of people giving her congratulations. Kristen was the first, but the red-haired girl was soon pushed aside by others wanting to add their own congratulations, to shake her hand, to say how pleased they were that she'd got two, and could be a Star-Commander. Cowboy, who had defeated his first opponent but fallen to the second, was more delighted than anyone, but then he'd just won a fortune on her result. 

Margaidh did not feel like celebrating. Her fear that she had killed Vincent was confirmed, and that knowledge deflated all her joy. She remained silent on the rough truck-ride back to Endlar, even Kristen and Cowboy together could not coax her to celebrate her own victory.

"You look as though you lost the whole thing," Cowboy commented.

Margaidh glanced at him, a frown on her face. Cowboy was grinning, still elated by his own victory which, he confessed, had been as much a surprise to him as to anyone else."Vincent lost the whole thing," Margaidh replied. "He lost his life, and I took it from him."

"That was his choice," Kristen reminded her. "He knew it was a risk."

"We all took that same risk," Cowboy added, his expression now solemn. "Vincent would have killed you, if you had let him."

Margaidh nodded. She knew that Vincent would never, ever have given up his grudge against her. And that if the matter had not been settled today, it would have been another day, and then another, and another, until one of them was dead. In a sense, they had both gotten what they wanted; Margaidh had won her trial and her right to be a Mechwarrior. Vincent had fought his own battle of honour, and to die with dignity in such a battle was second only to winning it.

Margaidh stared at the red star of the Mechwarrior that Khan Natasha Kerensky had presented to her. She turned it in her fingers, watching the light catch on the shiny surface, reflecting back at her with the colour of blood.She had been a little relieved that Khan Kerensky could not offer her the Star-Commander's position straight away, since there were at present no openings available, and she hinted at something special she had planned for her and Cowboy. So she had the simple Mechwarrior's pin, and a new hope for the future.

Kristen took the star out of her hand and pinned it to Margaidh's jacket."Wear it, Mags," she said quietly. "You've earned it."

The truck pulled in at the base on Endlar, and more people were gathered to congratulate the two victorious new Mechwarriors.Natasha had already returned and she stood with Khan Phelan in the yard. Phelan congratulated Margaidh and Cowboy, but to Margaidh's disappointment Evantha Fetladral hurried over to him, whispered something to him, and Phelan was forced to apologise for a hasty departure.

"Congratulations, kiddo," Natasha said, approaching Margaidh."I had a hunch Phelan wasn't just a one-off," she added, giving Margaidh a congratulatory thump on the back. Margaidh wondered how the Khan could get away with such sloppy language, and suspected that no-one else dared chastise her for it.

"I think I was lucky," Margaidh replied, flushing crimson.

"Neg," Natasha replied. "You took a gamble and it paid off. That's what battle is all about. Knowing when to take a gamble."

Margaidh nodded, hardly surprised to hear Natasha saying the same thing that Phelan had said to her a couple of weeks before. She smiled a little wistfully. "I wish Domask could have been here. He had so much faith in me, and he never lived to see it through."

Natasha put an arm around Margaidh's shoulders and steered her away from the crowds of people wanting to congratulate her. Only Kristen followed. "You know, kiddo, a couple years ago, Domask told me he'd got this young bondsman, and she wanted to test out a warrior. Trouble was, she'd just gotten herself all smashed up and he knew it was gonna be a long haul. But that suited him fine, y'see, 'cause he'd gotten this idea that needed a good long time to get sorted out. He asked me to make sure it was done, if ever anything happened to him. So I did."

Margaidh frowned. "What idea?"

"All in good time, kiddo. This way." Natasha led Margaidh towards the Mech hangars and just before they went in, she told Margaidh to close her eyes."It's tradition to present a new warrior with a ransom."

"Ransom?" Margaidh asked, resisting the temptation to open her eyes.

"Kinda like a gift. It was Domask's idea." She steered Margaidh further into the mech bay, and then came to a stop. "Okay. Open your eyes."

Margaidh opened her eyes and as she slowly took in the vast shape standing before her, she gave a scream of excitement. It was a shape she had not seen in two and a half years, and had thought she would never see again."Oh my God, it's the _Blue Skye!"The __Shadow Hawk stood six times Margaidh's height, and it was painted exactly the right shade of blue, with the Summer badge painted boldly on its left arm just where Margaidh wore her own. _

"Well, actually it isn't. Your old _Blue Skye was well and truly written off, so Domask had our technicians build a new one. All the best Clan technology. This __Blue Skye would whip the ass of your last one."_

"So what's it got?"

"Hmm. Well, to start with, it's got endo-steel structure, an XL engine and eight tons of ferro-fibrous armour." Natasha looked at the mech, as if to remind herself what weapons it carried. "Domask knew how fond you are of pulse lasers, so you've got three. A heavy one on the right shoulder where the old one was, and a medium on each arm. And to back those up there's a targeting computer, so you can't miss." 

"Has it still got missile systems?" Margaidh asked.

"Has it ever. Try one LRM fifteen-pack and one Streak SRM six-pack. This baby will cruise at 65kph, run at nearly a hundred, and jumps a hundred and fifty metres. And to soak up all that heat it's got thirteen big freezers. You'll still have to watch that though, it will run warm."

Margaidh stared. "I think I can live with that," she replied.

"There's one more thing. Take a look up there." Natasha pointed up to the Mech's right breast, and Margaidh squinted up at the insignia painted there. It depicted a wolf's head cradled in the arms of a black widow spider.

"I'm in the Wolf Spiders?" Margaidh gasped. "You're kidding!"

Natasha grinned. "You and Cowboy both. I had to twist a few arms, but you guys are too good to pass by. Mind you, if you don't learn to speak properly I'll kick you out. Contractions are my priviledge."

Margaidh grinned and snapped Natasha a salute. "Yes, ma'am." Then she turned to Kristen and hugged her. "Do you think you could put up with being my spannerjock?"

Kristen grinned back at her friend. "Mags, I thought you'd never ask!"

Margaidh looked back at Natasha. "Can I take it out for a ride?" she asked.

Natasha shook her head. "Not yet. I have one more surprise for you. Close your eyes again, and put out your hand."

Margaidh did so, and she felt something small and light drop into her palm. Without opening her eyes she closed her hand around something rough and cool, with a string attached to it. Frowning, she opened her eyes and looked at what she held. It was her mech-charm from the first _Blue Skye, that she had given to Michael._

A knot formed in the pit of her stomach, and she curled her fingers tightly around the charm. Unaware of how tightly she was holding it, she felt only a sick pain somewhere inside. _Something has happened to Michael…_

Margaidh gave Natasha an anxious glance. "Where did you get this?" she asked, a tremble in her voice.

Natasha said nothing but just pointed over Margaidh's shoulder. Margaidh turned around and Michael was there, with a smile on his face and the pin of a Star Commander on his jacket breast. Margaidh gave a squeal of delight and hugged him. "You came back! I thought I'd never see you again!"

Michael smiled back. "It seems that your magic works," he said. "Congratulations on the success of your Trial. My only regret is that I missed it; my drop ship did not arrive until your Trial was almost over."

"Congratulations on yours too," Margaidh replied, touching the red star he wore. "Star-Commander Michael."

"Michael is the reason I could not offer you your rank straight away," Natasha said, her voice apologetic. "He requested that if you tested out, he wanted you in his star. I said yes."

Michael blushed. "I release you from that, if you wish to take up your full rank," he said.

Margaidh frowned, and looked at Natasha who only shrugged. It was a decision only she could make, but it was not a difficult one. "I would prefer to remain as a Mechwarrior in Michael's star," she said. "I have plenty of time to worry about promotion later."She looked back at Michael. "I am honoured that you asked for me."

Three other mechwarriors came in and Margaidh recognised Cowboy, along with Alek and Bertram. They all saluted Michael, congratulated Margaidh and then turned to face Khan Kerensky.

"Star-Commander Michael, I hereby give you command of the Bravo Battle Star, of the Thirteenth Wolf Guards." Natasha presented Michael with his unit badge, and then handed the same to each of the other four mechwarriors."The Star is complete, the Wolf proclaims it. Seyla."

"Seyla," Margaidh replied in assent with the others. She looked round the room, at her new colleagues gathered around her, at Michael, and at the _Blue Skye.This day had begun with expectations that had not so long ago seemed way out of reach, and yet she had achieved not just a simple success as a Mechwarrior, but much more besides._

The blue _Shadowhawk stood as a twelve-metre symbol of Domasks's faith in her. He alone had been confident that she could achieve what she dreamed of, and so sure of that had he been that he had commissioned a new mech to be built for her.The badge she wore was the symbol of Khan Kerensky's confidence, that she would now wear on her uniform to proclaim that confidence to the whole clan. And beside her stood Michael, whose confidence in her skills was enough that he should want her in his star, to fight by his side._

Margaidh allowed herself a smile, and she could not hold back the tears that trickled down her cheeks. But for once, she cried tears of joy. This day would live forever in her memory as the day of her greatest ever victory.


	16. 28 September 3052

_Curitiba_

_Summer_

_28th September 3052_

**COM  STAR  FACILITYHPG-31-7D4MESSAGE ID:968-210945**

**MESSAGE FROM:**

Colonel Morgan Kell

Denton

Arc Royal

**DATE TRANSMITTED:**  

5th September 3052

**MESSAGE TO:**

Ms. Eleanor Lewis

Curitiba,  Summer

**MESSAGE READS:**

My dear Eleanor,

Please forgive me for my familiarity, but although we have never met, your fine reputation preceeds you, and I feel as though I have known you for many years. I understand that my dear brother Patrick knew you well, as did Colonel Allard, and they both spoke most highly of you. My regret is that you felt unable to accept Patrick's offer of a position in the Kell Hounds, because it meant I was never able to meet you.

My reason for communicating with you now, after so long, will go some way to addressing that error. I am shortly to be visiting Summer, and I would very much like the opportunity to meet with you. Firstly, I am eager to meet you after all these years. Secondly, I have some news that concerns you, and due to its particularly delicate and emotive nature, I feel compelled to deliver this news in person. I regret that I cannot say more until I meet you, as I would not wish to cause you any undue concern. Some aspects of the news will require much explanation, and you will have many questions to ask of me.

In the meantime, try not to worry, as the news I will bring is not terrible or tragic in any way. I hope to be visiting before the end of October, and closer to the time I will be able to make more specific arrangements. I look forward to our meeting.

Your humble servant,

Morgan Kell (Col.)

**MESSAGE ENDS.**

Eleanor frowned at the message. The mention in it of Colonel Allard had opened wounds she thought long healed, but which still ached even after twenty-five years.  She switched on the holovid and watched it for a while, flicking from one channel to another in an attempt to find something that would take her mind off Dan. But nothing the holovid offered could distract her, and she turned it off again.

On top of the holovid unit was a photograph of Margaidh, taken the last day Eleanor ever saw her. It had been the day of her graduation, Margaidh was laughing, and pointing with one finger at the new Ranger's badge she wore on her emerald green uniform jacket.  Even the day of her own graduation had not made Eleanor feel as proud as she had been to see her daughter accepted into the traditional family regiment.

Eleanor picked up the photograph and for a long time she looked at it, thinking how much Margaidh reminded her of Dan, and how much she missed them both. But Dan was married now, with a son, and Eleanor was no longer a part of his life.  And Margaidh…

Eleanor replaced the photograph and wheeled herself over to the drinks cabinet. With shaking hands she poured herself a large measure of Scotch and drank it quickly. The drink helped to ease the pain a little, if only for a short while. Again she read Morgan's message and wondered what it was he wanted to tell her. Something about Dan Allard? Had something happened to him? Or had he somehow found out the truth about his daughter?  Margaidh is…

She closed her eyes against the tears, fighting the pain that had not eased over the past two and a half years. Hope had gradually faded and become resigned acceptance, but that thought did not make it any easier for Eleanor to accept the inevitable.

…Margaidh is dead…

_13th Wolf Guards _

_Abernathy Base, Vulcan_

_9th October 3052_

After three weeks in transit from Diosd, Margaidh was relieved to once again find real ground under her feet. But the first thing she noticed about Vulcan was the cold. Even though it was late spring on Vulcan, and Abernathy was on one of the equatorial continents, a chill wind whipped through Margaidh's clothes making her shiver. Where light from the distant orange sun had not touched, the ground was covered with a dusting of frost.

The spaceport where the Wolf Spiders' Trinary Bravo was to be based was on a bleak moor, out in the middle of nowhere. A small community had grown up around the port, but the only real town nearby was Abernathy, about twenty miles distant. This was going to be a dull posting, as well as a cold one, Margaidh thought to herself. With the outbreak of peace since Tukayyid, there seemed to be little for anyone to do, so Clan units were spread thinly. The Wolf Spiders themselves had been divided between three planets, and Margaidh felt sure the Trinary Bravo had drawn the shortest straw.

"Great," Kristen said sourly, stuffing her hands deep into her pockets. "We get posted to the most prestigious unit in the whole Clan, and they make us live in a 'fridge."

Margaidh grinned and glanced up at the sky. "It's still sunnier than Summer," she replied.

The two girls helped the rest of the Trinary Bravo unload their mechs and other supplies, and by the time they had all finished, they did not notice the cold as much.  Afterwards, they donned thick coats and set out to explore their new home.

The exploration did not take long. The port was a small one, the surrounding town had a population of probably no more than a couple of thousand civillians, most of them dockworkers and their families. There was a cluster of shops, a single nightspot called, rather unnervingly, The Black Hole. Margaidh looked at its shabby exterior and glanced at Kristen.  "Kooken's Pleasure Pit, I don't think," she said.  "Looks as though we'll be spending nights in."

Kristen slipped her arm around Margaidh's waist. "Suits me," she said with a grin.

When they returned to the base, they found the rest of the Star in the canteen. The table was full of empty coffee cups and the four were now giving their attention to playing cards and piles of plastic chips. Cowboy, who was trying to explain the subtleties of Four-card Drax to the Clan warriors, wore an exasperated look on his face, and he was relieved to see the two girls returning.

"Do you two play Drax?" he asked hopefully. Both girls shook their heads, and Cowboy frowned, rubbing at his temples. "Pity. I think I might quit. Teaching it to the Clan is like trying to explain Andurien Opera to a deaf man."  He gathered up his chips. "What's the local entertainment like?"

"Virtually non-existant," Kristen replied.  "I hope Abernathy is better."

"It could hardly be worse," Margaidh said. "There is nothing to do here."

Michael handed his cards back to Cowboy and stood up. "Good," he said, smiling at Margaidh. "That leaves us plenty of time for training. By the time we leave here, the Trinary Bravo will be the best in the Wolf Spiders.  We will make Khan Kerensky proud of us."

_13th Wolf Guards _

_Abernathy Base, Vulcan_

_21st October 3052_

So training was all they did in that first two weeks in their new home.  The three Stars of the Trinary Bravo, under Star Captain Jakar Sanders, and assisted by clusters of elementals and aerospace fighters, spent each day on patrol. For the warriors it was dull duty; none of them, especially the trueborn Clan warriors, were happy at being treated as little more than a garrison cluster. But it kept their skills sharp, and their presence served to remind the locals just who was in charge on Vulcan.

After a fortnight of patrolling, Alek was concerned to find that Captain Sanders had pulled him off the duty rosta, and Michael was unable to find out why. The answer, however, was to arrive aboard a drop-ship that morning, and Bravo Striker were requested to be present when it touched down.

The first people to emerge from the dropship were technicians, bringing several huge containers of the sort that normally carried dis-assembled 'mech parts. Trucks hurried to carry the containers off to a secluded mech bay. Michael exchanged puzzled looks with his colleagues.

When the containers had been taken away, and shut out of sight behind the Mech bay's vast doors, three other people disembarked from the drop ship, and Margaidh was astonished to recognise not only Khan Phelan Ward, but Natasha and Ulrik Kerensky as well. They approached the gathered star, and Margaidh saluted along with the others.

It was ilKhan Ulrik who spoke first, and to Michael. After exchange of polite greetings, Ulrik winked mischievously, and beckoned everyone into the Mech bay.  "I have something interesting for you to see," he said. "Follow me."

Inside the Mech bay, the containers were already being unpacked by the technicians that the three Khans had brought with them. Assorted parts of machinery were lying on the floor in some sort of order that was not immediately apparent to the casual observer. Only the techs seemed to know exactly where each piece was supposed to go.  Margaidh recognised a few of the parts as being mech parts, though she could not identify the mech, and a good many of the parts seemed not to be from a mech at all.

Ulrik looked at Kristen. "Do you recognise any of this?" he asked.

Kristen frowned and approached one of the piles of pieces for a closer look. Margaidh saw her expression change to one of surprise. "These are parts for a LAM," she exclaimed.

"You are correct," Ulrik replied. "These parts, when properly assembled, will be a prototype for the first Land-Air Mech that this Clan, or any other, has ever built."

Ulrik turned to face Alek. "It will be named the _Werewolf_, and it will belong to you."

Alek stared. "Sir?" he asked quietly.

"You are one of a kind, young Alek. Your light physique makes you the only Mechwarrior in the Clan suitable to convert to flying a LAM. You will be responsible for testing the _Werewolf_, and you, Kristen, as chief technician to the star, will oversee its maintenance and upgrading." He gave a smile. "You will both have a great deal to learn in a short space of time. I want a full report on the _Werewolf_ inside twelve months. If it proves to be a success, then we shall begin production. The introduction of the LAM to our arsenal will be a profound advantage."

Alek seemed so pale, Margaidh was afraid that he was going to pass out. But he didn't, and gradually, a smile crept across his gaunt features. He snapped a salute to Ulrik. "Thankyou, my Khan," he said. "I will not let you down."

Kristen and Alek were both taken to review blueprints with Ulrik and Natasha, leaving Phelan with the others. The young Khan looked around the base, then at the others in turn. "So… what do we do for entertainment around here? It looks a bit… quiet."

"We have been training," Michael said. "There has been no time for entertainment."

Phelan shook his head, and laughed. "Come on Michael. Everyone needs to let their hair down once in a while."

Michael frowned and ran his hand over his short-cropped hair.  Margaidh leaned over to whisper to him. "It's an Inner Sphere expression. It means to have fun."

At Phelan's insistence, they borrowed a truck and drove down into Abernathy. The town was a distinct improvement on the port, and it was soon clear that those civillians who lived near the port would rely on the city for most of their entertainment.  Cowboy wanted to try out the local casino, but since everyone else was hungry he was out-voted, and the group went in search of lunch.

They settled on a large bar close to the centre of town. It was busy but unlike the others it's background music was relatively quiet, making conversation possible if not exactly easy.  Cowboy ordered drinks, and Margaidh pulled a face at hers when it arrived. It seemed unfair to her that the others could enjoy a beer with their meal, and she couldn't. On the other hand, she didn't particularly want to get into trouble, especially knowing that Natasha Kerensky was on-planet.

Since Phelan and Margaidh were the most familiar with the local cuisine, they collaborated on ordering the food, and settled on the relatively safe option of a very large pizza with a bit of everything on it.  To their relief, the choice seemed to be a good one and the pizza was all but demolished in the space of quarter of an hour.

Phelan leaned back on his chair with a relaxed grin, and put his boots up on the table.  "That," he said, "was truly delicious."

"Perhaps you should pass on the recipe to the Clan cooks," Cowboy suggested.

"I think I will."

"It is a pity Alek and Kristen missed out, quiaff?" Michael suggested.  "I do not envy them, having to learn this new mech."  He frowned. "What, exactly, is a LAM?"

"It's a hybrid between a mech and an aerospace fighter," Phelan explained. "It can change shape to switch from one to another, and it has an inbetween phase that looks like a fighter with legs."

"I like the name," Cowboy said with a grin. "_Werewolf_ is exactly right. A shapeshifter."

"There were a couple of guys at the academy with LAMs," Margaidh added. "I went up against them in training a few times. They were normally assigned to scout lances. They jump all over the place, and they can hover, they were very, very hard to hit."

Michael nodded slowly. "Perfect for a striker star," he said, picking at what was left of the pizza crust. "I am fortunate that mine was chosen."

"You picked Alek," Phelan reminded him. "A lot of other commanders wouldn't have given him a chance. He might have ended up in the Epsilon galaxy."

Michael grimaced, as did Bertram. Both knew that only the poorest warriors ended up in the Epsilon galaxy; those too old for active duty, or freebirth warriors from other castes, and those warriors whose competency is considered to be borderline.  Margaidh thought that without Michael's confidence, she and Cowboy might have gone the same way.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden noise, a crashing of tables and smashing glasses, and a crowd of people were gathering in a knot beside their table.  One man, an ugly-looking thug with a bandana round his head and a scar across his left cheek, sneered at the group.  He held a baseball bat which he kept tapping against his leather-clad thigh in an intimidating gesture.  As one, Margaidh and the others stood to meet the threat.

"We don't want your sort in here," the ugly man said, looking hard at each of them. His gaze lingered longer on Margaidh than she felt comfortable with, and she slowly closed her hand around the back of a chair that stood beside her.

Phelan pulled himself to his full height, which was still a good four or five inches shorter than the ugly man. "We mean no trouble."

"You are trouble," another man said. "We don't want you in our city. Why don't you jus' crawl back over the P'riffry where'y came from?"

That brought cheers from the hostile group, which had by this time swelled to about eight or nine.  Ugly Man made the first move; swinging his bat for Phelan, who sidestepped it, and followed up with a jab of his elbow in Ugly's ribs. That brief movement opened the floodgates, and the fracas erupted into a full-blown riot.

Margaidh picked up the chair and brought it crashing down on someone's head; the wood shattered and she wielded what remained in her hand as a weapon. Ugly made a lunge for her, his face bearing a greedy leer that reminded her of Vincent, and she slashed at him with her piece of wood. It tore across his face, leaving a bloody red line that mirrored the scar on his other cheek. As he turned, Cowboy snatched the bat from Ugly's hands and gave him a hefty thump on the back of the head.

Margaidh did not have time to watch Ugly fall. Someone else tried to grapple her, she dropped her weight and threw her assailant over her shoulder, and stamped hard on his knee as he hit the floor. Almost without drawing breath she looked for the next threat, but by now there were so many people trying to get in on the fight, it seemed to her that they would never escape alive.

It was Michael who finally brought the fight to a close, by bringing out his laser gun. He fired off two, maybe three shots, the first as a warning into the ceiling. Margaidh did not see where the other two went, but it seemed they were into the crowd, which suddenly pulled back. Bertram and Cowboy followed Michael's lead and drew their own guns, but before Margaidh saw what they did with them, Michael grabbed her firmly around the arm and headed at speed for a rear exit.

As soon as they were outside in the alley, and no longer in danger, Margaidh pulled herself out of Michael's grip and brought him to a halt. Her face was red with rage. "Just what the hell did you think you were doing in there? You can't just pull a gun and start shooting people!"

Michael scowled at her. "They attacked us. They attacked my Khan."

"I know that," Margaidh snapped back. "But you still can't go around shooting people!"

"Why not? They were in the wrong."

Margaidh threw up her hands in frustration. "It's just… not the right thing to do, okay? If they are in the wrong, it's up to the local legal system to dish out the justice. You can't be judge, jury and executioner."  She kicked at a trash can. "That is not the way things are done in the Inner Sphere."

Michael shoved his pistol back into its holster and looked at her with a frown. "I think I still have much to learn about your people's ways," he said quietly. "Phelan will probably be angry with me, quiaff?"

"Maybe," Margaidh replied, her own anger fast fading. "I think we should go home, before something else happens."

_Curitiba_

_Summer_

_22nd October 3052_

Eleanor had arranged to meet Colonel Morgan Kell at the university, and she had borrowed Pat Finlay's spacious office for privacy. For almost an hour she sat there alone, nursing a glass of scotch and re-reading the message Kell had sent to her. He was not late, but Eleanor had been unable to think of anything but his impending visit.

When the knock at the door finally came, Eleanor stared at it for a moment, suddenly dreading what might follow. Then, taking a deep breath, she rolled herself towards the door and opened it.

Eleanor forced herself to smile, and she noticed Morgan flinch slightly as his gaze fell upon her wheelchair. Then, composing himself, he smiled warmly back at her and offered a hand for her to shake. When Eleanor took it, she was surprised at how strong his grip was.

"I am glad you could find time to see me," Kell said.

"The honour is mine, Colonel Kell." Eleanor replied.

"Please, call me Morgan."

Eleanor nodded, and waved the Colonel towards a chair. "You said in your letter that you have some news for me," Eleanor said, trying to sound calm despite the pounding of her heart. Please, God, don't give me bad news about Dan…  She opened her handbag, took out a packet of cigarettes. 

Morgan Kell, noticing her trembling hands, lit one for her. "I have reasons for not trusting Com Star," he replied with a wry grin. "I decided it would be best that I delivered my message in person."

"That I can understand," Eleanor replied.  She hesitated, looking at Kell's deep green eyes. "It must be an important message, to go to such expense," she added.

Kell nodded. "That it is, but it is good news I bring," he said. Eleanor closed her eyes, feeling a great sense of relief.  "It's a long story, though. I hope you have plenty of time." He rubbed at his moustache. "Do you remember, about three years ago, my son Phelan was reported killed by the Clans? It was all over the news."

Eleanor felt a sudden sharp pain, and nodded. She could sympathise with that, at least.

"Well, I found out a couple of months ago that he was still alive. Captured by Clan Wolf, but rather than being a prisoner he joined them, and now he is a respected leader."

Eleanor stared, her dark eyes wide. "I cannot imagine your son would be a traitor," she said quietly.

Kell shook his head. "I don't believe he is," he replied.  "At first, I thought he was, but not now. I have visited him in Clan territory, and met with the Wolves, and I have to admit, I like what I saw.  Clan Wolf is different from the others, and I do not believe they are our enemy."

"I can understand why you didn't want Com Star to see your message," Eleanor said. She  inhaled deeply on her cigarette and lowered her eyes so Kell would not see her tears. "I lost my daughter to the Clans on Barcelona," she replied, her voice shaking. "I never found out what happened to her."

"I did," Kell replied.  Eleanor gave a start, and looked at him with a frown. He was smiling. "Your daughter is alive and well, and she too is now with Clan Wolf." He paused, and took a holodisk from his pocket, putting it on the desk in front of Eleanor. "She asked my son if he could arrange to get a message to you, and I agreed to pass it on."

For a moment, Eleanor felt as though she was going to pass out. Morgan's words slammed into her like a slug from a gauss gun. Your daughter is alive and well…

"Margaidh is alive?" she whispered. She reached out her hand, hesitating over touching the holodisk, as if it was something that might harm her. 

Kell nodded. "I know this must be a shock to you, after all this time thinking she was dead." He put a reassuring hand on Eleanor's own. "Believe me, Eleanor, I know exactly how you feel."

Eleanor shook her head, blinking back tears. "There must be a mistake," she said. "Margaidh would never have joined the enemy. She would have died fighting them."

"There is no mistake, Eleanor," Kell replied. "The message will explain everything."

Eleanor picked it up, and studied it for a while. "Morgan, would you stay with me while I play it? I don't think I want to be alone right now."

Kell nodded. "Of course I will."

With shaking hands, Eleanor put the disk into the holo-player and switched it on. There was a flicker, and then the screen showed the wolf-clan emblem; a russet-coloured wolf's head, it's jaws open and hungry-looking. Beneath it was a date: 22nd August 3052, and a name: Margaidh Wolf. Slowly the image faded to be replaced by a familiar face that brought fresh tears to Eleanor's eyes.

Margaidh looked older, tougher than she had done on the day of her graduation, and Eleanor wondered what she'd been through that could make her little girl grow up so much in so short a time. Her hair was shorter than it used to be, and she wore a grey jumpsuit with the wolf-clan emblem on it. Margaidh gave a broad grin, and a wave.

"Hi Mam," she said. Even her accent had changed.  Eleanor smiled, her lips forming a silent reply.  "I know it must be a terrible shock to you," Margaidh continued, "…finding out that I'm alive after all this time thinking I was dead.  Even so, it is only due to the co-operation of my friend, Khan Phelan Ward, and his father Colonel Morgan Kell, that I have been able to communicate to you at all. Colonel, if you are there, thankyou again for helping me out."

Eleanor glanced at Morgan, and he was smiling to himself.

"I wish I could have gotten a message to you sooner," Margaidh said. "The past two and a half years of not knowing what had happened to me must have been a nightmare for you.  I know you want to hear everything that has happened to me, but I have to keep this message short." Margaidh took a deep breath and frowned slightly in concentrating. 

"Briefly, after the Clan Jade Falcon attacked Barcelona, a handful of the Rangers managed to get off-planet to Black Earth, in the hope that we would get back home. Unfortunately the Clan attacked there too, and in May 3050 I was captured by the Falcons."  At this point, Margaidh faltered, and her expression became one of a child who knew she had done something very naughty and was about to get scolded for it.

"Mam, I know you're going to hate me for this, but… well… the Blue Skye got wrecked in that last fight. I know how much it meant to the family, and I know you'll be so upset…"

There was a long pause, and Eleanor shook her head. "I forgive you," she whispered.

"…I'm just… really sorry." The picture flickered then, as if Margaidh had switched off the recording and come back to it later.  "A couple of months after my capture I joined Clan Wolf at their request.  I wanted to reassure you that since then I have been happy and among friends. I am neither a prisoner nor a slave but I have been adopted by the Clan." Margaidh smiled again. Eleanor frowned, gave Morgan a concerned glance, but his attention was focussed on the screen. He was smiling.

"I will shortly be taking my Trial of Position, which is kind of like an Academy Graduation exam, purely practical. If I pass, I mean when I pass, I will qualify as a Clan Mechwarrior, and the degree of my success will determine my rank. By the time you receive this message, I suspect I will already have taken this Trial, so it's too late to wish me luck."

The picture flickered again, and this time Margaidh looked more serious. "I know you must think of me as a traitor for abandoning my home and joining what must to you appear to be the enemy.  But I've seen more to respect and admire in the society of Clan Wolf and its warriors than the Federated Commonwealth could muster in three hundred years. I have even been back to the Clans' homeworld for a few months; it was a most beautiful place, and a time at which I learned a lot about these people. I only wish I could show you, or tell you why; but it would take a hundred messages the size of this one."

Margaidh frowned. "Don't be puzzled about my new name; it is a tradition among Clan warriors to use the name of their Clan as a surname, that's why I'm now Margaidh Wolf. I was surprised to discover that Lewis is significant among the Clans; what they call a Bloodname, indicating that those who hold it are descended from Duncan Lewis who left the Star League with Aleksandr Kerensky. Apparently Duncan had a brother called Donald who stayed on Summer to look after their sick father, and he is our ancestor. Clan Lewises wear the Summer badge on their uniforms in honour of his sacrifice."

Margaidh smiled then, and Eleanor could see she was on the verge of tears. "One of the first friends I made among these people was a Mechwarrior called Domask Lewis," she said.  "I wish you could have met him, he had the typical Lewis hard-headedness we both share, but he was always kind-hearted and treated me with utmost respect, which I still think I don't deserve." She stopped then, and this time her voice shook with emotion.  "Domask was killed on Tukayyid three months ago. I think it's going to take a long time to get over that…"

This time the recording stopped for a few seconds, and when Margaidh's image returned to the screen, she looked calmer, more refreshed. "Sorry about that… um… where was I? Oh yes, bloodnames." She frowned again in concentration. "Clan warriors have to earn the right to wear their bloodname, in a trial by combat, like the Trial of Position only harder. It is even more difficult for outsiders like myself, but Phelan managed it, hence he's now Phelan Ward, after his mother. I've made up my mind to do the same. My only goal now is to wear your name and Domask's with pride once again. Having to give it up was hard,  getting it back will be harder, but I will do it." Margaidh laughed. "So you see, Mam, being stubborn and hard-headed has its advantages after all!"

Margaidh's smile faded, and she looked nothing if not embarassed. "There is one thing I wish I did not have to mention, but it is something that has been bothering me ever since I first met Phelan, about two years ago. When I told him who I was he asked if I was related to Eleanor Lewis of Summer!  Apparently during his early years with the Kell Hounds, some of the older Hounds mentioned you, and the Blue Skye. I wondered why you never told me, but when I found out that you were with the Hounds in early '27, I was left to assume only that one of them might be my father, and that you kept his identity a secret. I hope you can get a reply to me about that one, not knowing is driving me crazy!"

She smiled again. "I am dying to hear of news from home, I have missed you more than you could imagine.  It may be possible for you to send a message back to me through Colonel Kell and Phelan. Not being able to see you or speak to you is the one thing about being here that I find hard to bear. Hopefully I will be able to send you another message, or we might even get the chance to meet up again somewhere. Probably not Summer, we cannot travel below the Tukayyid Truce Line, and I suspect that even visiting a planet above that line might cause panic and a possible return of hostilities that I would not wish for. But it may be possible to arrange for you to visit me, as Phelan has arranged a visit for his own father here.  I hope you get the opportunity to thank Colonel Kell on my behalf for passing on this message.

"No matter whether you consider me a traitor, or if you cannot forgive me for Disposessing the family, I will always love you. I will never forget that you are my mother and my roots are on Summer, no matter how far away I am."  Tears were now flowing freely down Margaidh's cheeks. "I love you, Mam."

Margaidh blew a kiss, then the image was replaced once again with the wolf's head and finally the screen went black. Eleanor stared at it a long time, and she was crying too. She looked at Morgan and smiled weakly.

"Thankyou, Morgan, for bringing me the message," Eleanor said quietly, lighting another cigarette.

"I am sure you will be able to meet her soon," Kell said. "I am trying to arrange for Phelan to visit Arc-Royal. I would very much like to invite you and Margaidh too."

Eleanor smiled, and nodded in thanks. She inhaled deeply on her cigarette. "I know you must be wondering if Margaidh is right about her father being a Kell Hound," she said.

Morgan shrugged. "That is your business, and yours alone."

Eleanor shook her head. She poured herself another glass of scotch, and passed another to the Kell Hound. "I think you have a right to know. Margaidh's father is Daniel Allard."

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "I had a suspicion that might be the case. He doesn't know, does he?"

"No." Eleanor sipped at her drink. "I didn't know I was pregnant until after I left Pacifica. That was about a month before… before your brother was killed." She saw Morgan's eyes close in a brief moment of pain. "I was afraid Dan would have given up his career for me. I didn't want to be responsible for that. I loved him too much."

Morgan Kell inhaled deeply. He looked at Eleanor, and his expression was a quizzical one. Part of him felt that Eleanor had made a terrible mistake; by selfishly concealing her pregnancy from Allard, she had deprived him of his only daughter. A daughter Morgan felt certain that Allard would have loved. And yet, as a military man himself, Morgan understood Eleanor's reasons for keeping the whole thing a secret. To people like himself, and like Allard, Eleanor and Margaidh too, the career comes first and anything else, family included, takes second place. He understood then, for the first time, why Margaidh had declined his offer of a passage back home.

Eleanor narrowed her hazel eyes at Morgan. "Did I do the wrong thing? Should I have told Dan? Stayed with the Kell Hounds?"

Morgan smiled, and shook his head. "What you did was right for you."

"It wasn't right for Daniel."

The Kell Hound shrugged, but he said nothing. Who has the right to say what is right or wrong for someone else? Eleanor is right; Dan would have given up too much for her. 

Eleanor looked down at her half-empty glass, deep in thought. Daniel was married now, to Morgan's daughter, and they had a son of their own. "I am glad everything worked out for him," she said quietly. "I think it might be best to leave things the way they are."

"You don't want me to tell him?"

Eleanor shook her head. "It would tear him apart." She smiled at Morgan. "Thankyou for coming, Colonel."

Morgan Kell stood up, then bent to give Eleanor a kiss on the cheek. "The pleasure is all mine. You have a remarkable daughter, you should be proud of her."

Eleanor gave a little nod.

"I will be on Summer for another three days," Kell continued. "If you have a return message for Margaidh, I could collect it before I leave."

Eleanor lowered her eyes. "Perhaps," she said quietly.

After Morgan Kell had left she refilled her glass, and drank it in one. But is did not help to ease the turmoil she felt inside. Two and a half years of thinking that Margaidh had died a hero, defending a far distant world from the enemy, and now all that was turned upside down. Margaidh was alive, and she had joined the enemy.  She had betrayed everything she had strived for, everything the Lewis family had stood for over hundreds of years.

Now Morgan Kell was gone Eleanor let go the reins that kept her anger in check, and she hurled the empty glass across the room in a sudden outpouring of rage.  The glass and the silence were shattered, and Eleanor began to weep bitter tears.  Anger and betrayal swept over her like a wave. After all I did for you Margaidh, how can you have so little respect for your family? For tradition? For Summer?  You are a traitor. You abandoned me for a family that is not your own, you cast off your family name like a worn-out coat. I am not your mother, Margaidh Wolf. 

She did not hear Pat Finlay come in, she did not notice him crouch down beside her wheelchair until he put a comforting arm on her shoulder.

"Eleanor?"

Eleanor looked up at him, her cheeks red and streaked. "Oh, Pat!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.

"Sssh." He held her as she cried, waiting until she was ready to speak. As Eleanor's sobbing subsided, Pat squeezed her hand.

"Two and a half years," Eleanor said quietly, her voice still shaking. "I always thought there was some hope that she might be alive…"  She closed her eyes. "But she isn't. My daughter is dead."

**THE END?**

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**FAQ**

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Since I first published this story here I have received numerous questions about it, mainly pertaining to the matter of whether there will be any more of the story.

**Are the characters original?**

Most of the major ones are original characters. Margaidh Lewis herself was my roleplaying character for the Battletech/Mechwarrior tabletop game and most of this story derived from her background information. The last quarter or so of the story, following her recovery from the injury, were her early gaming adventures.

Other major characters such as Domask Lewis, Kirsten, Vincent and Eleanor, are also my own creations. In some cases (such as with Domask) only a name, favoured mech, and date of death was known from canon. The rest of the character was developed by myself.

Some characters are pure canon, such as Natasha and Ulric Kerensky, Phelan and Morgan Ward. They play a minor role in my story although I was careful to ensure no conflicts with the canon storyline (ie; making certain they were in the right place at the right time). Effectively, Blue Sky Dreams tells the same history as Stackpole's Clan trilogy, only from the point of view of a different character.

The characters of Michael Ward, Alek and Cowboy, who appear later in the story, were characters created by other players in the game at the time.

**What were your sources?**

Mainly the FASA novels, in particular the Wolf Clan trilogy by Michael Stackpole, and also the extensive resource material that was available for the game. This included technical manuals, maps and timelines. The dates and locations of all battles, and othermovements of clan troops, are strictly canon. On the whole, I believe it's entirely down to the huge amounts of research I did into the canon storyline that makes this story so good.

**How come the battle scenes are so realistic?**

They are? Coo. Thanks. :) Actually, I played out every single battle scene on the game board using the Battletech rules. This ensured authenticity and consistancy, although I confess to occasionally fudging a die-roll so that the right characters would win. 

**Are you going to write more? Are you going to finish the novel?**

The short answer is no. My reasons for this are several.

First, our gaming sessions ended unexpectedly and without a clear resolution of some storylines, I found the whole thing starting to turn rather flat.

This also came at the time when the TV series "Somerset Strikers" began, as well as the computer games. With them came some re-writes of canon by FASA, with which I was distinctly not happy. My planned future for Margaidh no longer fit the direction which the canon storyline was to follow. I found myself unable to re-write her story to fit the revised canon. In short I was disillusioned with the new directives from FASA which dictated that the "good guys" (ie; the Inner Sphere) must win. I could not continue with Margaidh's story under that premise.

One of the other problems was that the Land-Air Mech was dropped from canon due to a dispute with the creators of Robotech. Much of the later stories centered around Alek's LAM, but canon now decreed that this mech had never even existed to begin with.

Lastly, I no longer possess any of the source material for the game, as it was among a number of things stolen from my home last year. All these books are now out of print, so I can no longer obtain any of the information I would need to carry on with the story.

Of course Margaidh survives at the end and she has more to tell in her own life story. She is later to find her father and after the break-up of Clan Wolf she returns to the Inner Sphere to take up a role as Mechwarrior with the Kell Hounds, and is reunited with both parents. She also becomes a mother herself, and thus is born the next of the Lewis line, destined to carry on her own Blue Skye Dreams. (And no, I won't be writing that story either - again because I don't have access to the canon storyline any more). 

So it may be that Blue Skye Dreams has come to an end, albeit an unsatisfactory one. But Margaidh Lewis and her blue shadowhawk mech still live on in my memory and my heart.


End file.
